Valen's Return
by Julie the Tall Terror
Summary: CH8 Methos makes a terrible discovery. Catherine is headed for trouble. B5/Highlander crossover with Delenn, Sheridan, etc. Aliens want the secret to immortality. The Minbari want Valen aka Sinclair. Methos is giving the Watchers headaches as usual.
1. Immortals Among Us

Title: Valen's Return 

Author: Julie the Tall Terror

Summary: The galaxy learns that some Humans are Immortal. While greedy aliens are after the secret to immortality, the Minbari and Watchers search for a particular Immortal, Valen. Babylon 5/Highlander crossover.

Setting: 2264. The new Interstellar Alliance is still very shaky.

Babylon 5 characters: Valen (Sinclair), Delenn, Catherine, Sheridan, Garibaldi, possibly more.

Highlander the Series characters: Methos, the Watcher organization, possibly more.

You do NOT need to know anything about Highlander: the Series to understand this story. If you do, just enjoy the familiar characters.

Big thanks to John Hightower for creating the Minbari Dictionary at Jumpnow.de and my beta readers, Sarah t and Marianne Todd.

Chapter One

Immortals Among Us

_"Valen was the greatest of us. A thousand years ago he came from nowhere, formed the Grey Council, and brought peace to our people. They say he was a Minbari, not born of Minbari."_

-- Lennier, Babylon 5: "Passing Through Gethsemane"

- o0o -

2247

17 years ago

Just after the Earth/Minbari War.

"Out of twenty thousand ships, perhaps two hundred people have survived. Horror," the president stated bluntly, "doesn't begin to cover it."

President Beth Levy paced her office, her high heels echoing louder with each step as she walked from the carpet to the wood floor and back again. The room was intimidating and formal in a way that normally didn't match the warm motherly style she'd cultivated. It did today as her parental persona dropped all gentleness. Finally she turned back to look at Valen, or Jeffrey Sinclair as he was calling himself now, one of the few Immortals that Earthgov had identified. "At ease! Goodness, just because you aren't wearing the fleet admiral's stripes anymore..." she sighed quietly.

Valen shifted his feet slightly into parade rest, but didn't truly relax. He continued to stoically face her desk as she angrily paced the room.

"What were you thinking? You could have died!" The president's voice rose with every word. "We may call your kind Immortals, but had the Minbari blown up your Starfury you'd have died just as permanently as I would. How could you?"

He didn't answer her rhetorical question.

She stormed over to her desk to face him. "The Joint Chiefs are demanding you be tried for treason," she told him and gauged his reaction.

"I am as loyal to Earth as I have always been, Madam President," Valen answered without flinching.

"I believe you, but many do not," she said grimly. "Therefore, you will remain an Earthforce officer under your current rank and alias of Jeffrey Sinclair."

"To keep track of me," Valen stated.

"Yes. Should you disappear again, I will have no choice but to put you on trial and it would end in your imprisonment, I assure you." Her features softened slightly. "I don't need to remind you that Immortals are in peril of being regulated like the telepaths. It is only that mortals are safer _not_ knowing about your immortality that has prevented the government from taking such measures. Maintaining the secrecy of your existence from the rest of Earth is not easy."

"And keeping us a secret from aliens, Ma'am?" Valen asked. Earthforce's furious reaction to the twenty-four hours he was missing made more sense if they believed he'd been in league with the Minbari and had cowardly fled the battleground. Making an intuitive leap, he said, "That is what this is about. You're afraid that somehow the Minbari have discovered Immortals and you think I'm to blame."

"I hope not. Most of my advisors, the Senate and the Joint Chiefs are divided on that. So, without some way to prove otherwise, they will not trust you and I cannot risk trusting you either."

Valen closed his eyes and suppressed a sigh. The darkening sky outside the windows made the room gloomy and the distant rumble of thunder matched his mood.

"Even if it had not taken a full day for the recovery crews to locate your damaged ship, which led to all of this suspicion and paranoia, you still have betrayed Earth."

"I would never -" Valen began protesting in the first real anger she'd seen from him. But the president raised a hand and he fell into a resentful silence.

"Perhaps you haven't betrayed us to the Minbari," she reluctantly granted. "But you weren't here when we needed you. At the start of the war, I was certain you'd show up at my door ready to serve as you always have. Everyone who has clearance to know of your existence was sure you'd lead our fleet against the Minbari, just as you led us to victory in the Dilgar War."

"I could never have given you a victory against the Minbari. We were outgunned! Our technology so far behind them that -"

"I know that," Levy interrupted, "and the Senate does as well. But our losses would not have been so devastating, our people not so easily slaughtered, nor -"

"Madam President!" Valen nearly yelled at her. "You can't know that!"

"Neither can you!" She shouted at him before visibly regaining control of herself. Through gritted teeth she said, "When you vanished after the Dilgar War twenty years ago, you sent everyone into a panic. My predecessor was convinced that some remnant of the Dilgar military had kidnapped you. We never gave up searching for you all these years."

She began to laugh mirthlessly. "And here you turn up, as an Earthforce officer. Right under our noses! Worse still, you've spent the last two years on the _battlefront_. We could have lost you forever."

"I'm not an object to be shut away in a glass cage, Ma'am."

"If you told us after the Dilgar War that you wanted to go through the ranks on your own merit, everyone would have been confused, yet allowed it. But not during wartime! And certainly not to waste your skills as a mere fighter pilot. Why?" she demanded again.

"I can't answer that, Ma'am."

She seemed to expect him to say that and the look of anger at his betrayal never left her face. "You'll have to work hard to earn back everyone's trust and as I'm sure you know, many of those who served with you against the Dilgar will never forgive you for this," she said firmly. "Dismissed."

Valen saluted and turned to leave. When he was just at the door, the president spoke one more time.

"And Valen," she said sadly, using his real name for the first time. "Prepare yourself for the worst assignments and don't expect to be promoted. It isn't fair, I know, but I had to allow the military some way of punishing you that didn't include prison or your head on a platter."

Valen only nodded, his face devoid of expression, and left.

The winter rain had lessened to a cold drizzle as he walked out of EarthDome. He put on his hat and pulled up his coat collar to ward off both the wet and being recognized. He'd used one of the lesser known exits to avoid the press camped outside the Dome eagerly waiting to learn how his meeting with the president had gone. Their outrage had reduced significantly after he was cleared at the hearing, yet it only increased their speculation. No one seemed to believe he'd really been unconscious in his Starfury for an entire day, but they couldn't prove otherwise.

The approach of another Immortal echoed in his head forcing him to scan the area out of instinct to locate where the person was coming from. He hastened his pace down the stone steps ignoring the icy puddles soaking his shoes.

"Jeff!"

Valen kept walking, but slowed unsure if he should stop or not. He knew this Immortal very well. She was a mercurial presence in his life, never to be found when he wanted her and always arriving exactly when he didn't need any additional complications. The longest they'd ever managed to spend together were the three blissful decades after they first met. It didn't last and they'd never managed to regain that happiness for that length of time since then.

"Jeff, wait!" she repeated, running to catch up with him. "Valen!"

That made him stop. She rarely called him by his real name, preferring the name she'd first known him by when they'd met on the Silk Road almost a thousand years ago.

"Catherine."

He finally turned around to face her. Catherine was holding an umbrella that had clearly lent her little protection from the rain. She was quite damp and chilled from the earlier downpour.

"I've been waiting for hours. I knew you'd come out this way, it was the only door the press weren't holed up at."

Valen only looked at her, waiting for her to say more. They hadn't seen each other since they'd both attended Earthforce Academy together a few years ago. Different assignments had split them apart until they lost track of one another.

"I've missed you," Catherine said. Her look of worry changed to dismay. "Aren't you glad to see me?"

"I don't know," he said with pitiful honesty. As much as Catherine would have preferred a friendlier greeting, even if it were a lie, it simply wasn't his way.

Catherine was irritated by his coldness, but not deterred. "Talk to me, please."

"What do you want me to say?"

"What do I want you to say?" she echoed shaking her head and slinging droplets of water from her hair around her. "Your picture is all over the news! Are you all right? Were you injured on the Line?"

"Yes I was. Not severely enough to be noticed by mortals at least," he answered. "But that isn't really what you want to know."

"No, it's not."

They simply stared at each other for a moment, each waiting for the other to ask the questions. The rain lessened somewhat while dense and depressing clouds rolled across the sky.

"All I can tell you is what I have told everyone else," Valen stated quietly. "My fighter was disabled during the battle. I blacked out and woke up twenty-four hours later."

"That doesn't happen to Immortals," she accused, her eyes very wide. "It would take decompression, or at least a piece of shrapnel stuck in your heart or brain! But neither of those things happened, did they?"

"No, they didn't."

"Then what did?" she demanded.

"I can't explain it, Catherine."

"Why were you even up there? I thought I was angry when I found out you'd fought in the Battle of Britain three hundred years ago, but at least then you had a chance of surviving if the Nazis shot down your aircraft."

"Catherine -"

"No! You listen to me! So many of the old Immortals have been killed, either by bombs or murdered by one of us for their power. How could you risk dying, _permanently_ dying," she emphasized, "in space too far away from another Immortal to receive your Quickening?"

"I don't believe our Quickening, or whatever it is that we give up in a true death, matters. The knowledge transferred doesn't last long and it certainly doesn't make us stronger or heal faster. If it -"

"Enough!" Catherine bellowed. This was an old argument that they'd never resolved and could never convince the other to accept.

Valen looked down, away from her hurt face and accusing eyes.

"Sorry, I don't mean to yell," she said, apologetically. "Couldn't you have fought in the war from a safer position?"

"The president asked me that. She, and what seems like the entirety of Earthforce's officers, are angry that I didn't resume my duties as an admiral."

"Why didn't you?" Catherine asked, struggling not to sound judgmental.

"It wouldn't have been safer and I couldn't have changed the outcome."

"You don't know that."

Valen turned around quickly, unable to school his features. Yet, Catherine knew him too well to miss the odd expression that flitted briefly across his face.

"Jeff?"

"I couldn't lead our fleet again, Catherine. Please, just accept that."

Catherine's face changed from furious bewilderment to cold fear. "Why, Jeff? No one knew that the Minbari ships were so much more advanced than ours in the beginning and even if we had, that wouldn't have stopped you from doing what was right."

Valen began walking away from her, head down against the wind. His gaze was fixed on his footsteps that marred the still pools of water. Catherine stood dumbfounded, unable to follow.

"You couldn't have known how hopeless it was going to get!" Catherine yelled after him as he left. Her accusation echoed off of the stone buildings.

- o0o -

2264

Present day

Delenn sat in the command chair of her White Star, looking blankly at the orange of hyperspace outside the windows. It felt far longer than a few days since she left her home on Minbar, yet also as though no time had passed at all. Her goodbye to John was a blur. She dimly recalled putting her son, David, down for a nap and kissing his cheek before departing.

Immortals. The last of the First Ones departed little more than a cycle ago and already the Humans were unknowingly on the path to replace them. Delenn reminded herself that she'd told the Grey Council years ago that Humans had the capacity to walk among the stars like giants. However, the idea that the oldest living sentient beings presently in this galaxy could well be Humans was staggering.

Delenn pressed a button on her comand chair, activating a small holographic display. It showed a flat image of Earth's Interstellar Network News channel logo spinning in the center before zooming in on a row of Human commentators. ISN had been broadcasting constantly since they'd first reported the story. Delenn generally did not care to watch the news reports, preferring the slightly less inflammatory format of Earth's written news. However, she needed the latest information and ISN was currently her best source.

"For those ISN viewers just tuning in," the reporter was saying. "The kidnapped Immortal has been identified as Pierce Adam Benson. I repeat the Immortal has been identified."

An image of a smiling man appeared with a caption of his name below it. He was dark haired, with an angular face and was nearly as pale as a Minbari. Delenn noticed several of the bridge crew craning their necks to get a better look. They quickly returned to their duties the moment they realized she'd seen them.

"Copy that picture and search for all information on Mr. Benson," Delenn ordered.

"Yes, Entil'Zha," answered one of the crew.

"To return to our discussion," the reporter was saying. "The Narn government continues to insist that their people have not kidnapped an Immortal Human and considers the accusation, and I quote via translation, 'Absurd' and insist that 'Anyone who believes that fragile Humans could live forever must be mad' end quote. What are your thoughts, Senator?"

The image displayed an older woman with the name 'Senator Walker' captioned below her.

"Sam," she addressed the reporter. "I find it absurd that the Narns are focusing all their energy in refuting immortality instead of proving they aren't to blame."

"Ah," Sam said holding up one finger, "but Earthgov officials were saying the same just yesterday."

"To protect the Immortals," she explained. "And to stop ISN from making unverified accusations against an alien government that is currently our ally in the Interstellar Alliance."

"But it wasn't unverified. We have the security recording of the whole debacle. Including the man clearly dying and returning to life!"

"I've seen it," Walker answered in disgust. "And you can't tell who his captors are."

"Eyewitnesses confirmed they were Narns."

"_Centauri_ eyewitnesses. Who is to say they're telling the truth?"

"You want to talk about truth, Senator? How about the fact that Earthgov has repressed ISN from reporting about Immortals for decades."

"I say again, to stop ISN from making unverified accusations. You can't out the Immortals without proof and _morally_," she stressed the word, "you shouldn't have revealed their existence at all."

"Senator, -"

"ISN has sparked a manhunt for Immortals, not just on Earth, but across the galaxy. You aren't helping this man – you're condemning our entire race to his fate! Just because you and I wouldn't revive like he did won't stop some alien from killing us to find out."

"Entil'Zha?" the Anla'shok manning the communications station interrupted.

"Yes?" Delenn answered absently over the sound of the Humans' heated debate.

"The Defa'Rosh has arrived," he pointed out.

Delenn turned the channel off. The hologram dispersed and reformed to show her an image of a jump point winking out and the silhouette of a Minbari cruiser slowing. Delenn blinked, she hadn't even noticed that her own ship had exited hyperspace. She waited for a flyer to disembark as planned.

Minutes passed. She could hear one of her crew talking faintly to the cruiser's Alyt. Just as Delenn was about to ask if there was a problem, the crewman spoke again.

"Receiving transmission from the Ven'sha'ir," he announced.

"Put it through."

The image of a younger Minbari woman appeared.

"Greetings, Entil'Zha Delenn," she said. "My apologies for the delay."

"Greetings, Ven'sha'ir Nerlise," Delenn said to the Grey Council messenger. "Is there a problem?"

"Yes," Nerlise answered. "The Human delegation insists on continuing to the Interstellar Alliance headquarters on Minbar."

"They insist?" Delenn echoed, snapping out of her daze abruptly. She sat up straighter, her fingers digging into the armrests of her chair. "There isn't time to take them to Minbar. This is a crisis! Two major members of the Interstellar Alliance are threatening each other. The Humans' panic must be stopped now before they do something rash. Bring these people aboard, at once."

- o0o -

Delenn stood in the center of the room, stern yet composed. The simple furnishings of low benches and tables in muted colors lent it informality. It was a useful place for serving tea, polite conversation and for receiving surly guests. The arched door-less entry allowed her to hear the Humans approaching long before she saw them.

"…could've let Earthgov shoot itself in the foot," a woman was saying more than a little snidely.

A man's voice answered her. "If you say, 'I told you so' one more time, so help me-"

"Oh, shut up! It's not like the Tribunal can do anything now."

The two Anla'shok escorting her guests came into view followed by a clearly annoyed Nerlise with the four Humans. Behind them were several rather harried aides. The Anla'shok bowed respectfully and took up posts by the doorway. Nerlise and the other Minbari came forward, bowing in a formal greeting while Delenn responded likewise.

"Welcome," Delenn said to them.

The Humans remained a bit distant from the Minbari, watching the ritual in silence. They stood a little straighter when she turned to them repeating her bow. All four were rather non-descript looking for Humans and wore the business style of dress. The youngest of the group, a woman began a timid bow a fraction of a second before a middle-aged man and an older woman next to her did the same, but gracefully. The second man, who looked to be the oldest of the four Humans, just looked stoically at Delenn without moving. The group didn't appear to have an organized leader and stood awkwardly looking at her.

"I am Delenn, leader of the Rangers."

Finally, the young woman made an odd noise Delenn sometimes heard John make when particularly exasperated. "Hi, I'm Aria Dakirounisha," she said nervously. "And this is Corbin Teguese, Elspeth Sisen and James Reth, but I'm sure you know all that."

She stepped forward holding out her hand, then paused, checking the action. Delenn reached out quickly to show her that she understood the custom. Relief spread across the woman's face as they shook hands. Delenn then turned to the others. With obvious reluctance, they each shook Delenn's hand.

"Mind telling us why we've been kidnapped?" Corbin Teguese, the younger of the two men, asked snidely.

"Corbin!" Aria scolded.

"Mr. Teguese," Delenn addressed him with firm politeness, "you were sent to request help from the Minbari Federation, were you not?"

"Yes," Teguese began. "But-"

"Specifically in freeing Mr. Benson."

Teguese opened his mouth, but Delenn didn't give him a chance to speak.

"And protecting Immortals in future?" she emphasized.

"Being hauled along for the ride wasn't part of the deal," Teguese snapped.

Delenn stepped closer, her eyes boring into him. "Mr. Benson and other Immortals who may find themselves in need of rescue in future are unlikely to respond favorably to Minbari or even Human Rangers. Having Humans they trust to speak to them-"

"Oh, no," Aria blurted out. "No, we can't do that."

Delenn looked sharply at the woman, who quailed visibly under Delenn's gaze. Aria glanced quickly at Teguese, but he only crossed his arms.

"Why not?" Delenn asked in a slightly demanding tone. This was not what she'd expected at all.

"Well," said Aria, carefully. "Most Immortals have no idea we know they exist… well, they do _now_, but we don't have permission to talk to them."

"Is the Immortal we are to rescue aware that you know what he is?"

"Yeah, Benson knows, but…" Aria's voice trailed off and she looked pleadingly at Teguese again, but he didn't respond.

"We took an oath," the older woman, Sisen explained. "To observe and record, never interfere."

Delenn was still confused at their determination to have their own way. None of this made sense or fit with Nerlise's report. Were these Humans being deliberately obstinate or did they have a legitimate reason for not complying? To take such an oath would have to be serious.

"Is Mr. Benson dangerous?" she asked in concern. Freeing him would be more perilous if he attacked his rescuers.

"Not exactly," answered Aria quietly.

"The penalty for fraternizing with an Immortal is death," the other man, Reth, spoke for the first time, his eyes raking across everyone in the room before returning to Delenn. "You'd be murdering us."

That set off a great deal of angry murmuring amongst the rest of the Minbari. Delenn expected that was his intent and she didn't like how satisfied he looked. Aria at least, wasn't so arrogant.

"Really," the young woman muttered in obvious disgust.

He turned angrily to her. "We agreed to go to the Alliance headquarters on Minbar. We agreed to provide information. Not this," Reth spat looking back at Delenn, "gallivanting about the galaxy!"

Delenn's cold frown did nothing to make him waver. Nerlise came forward for the first time.

"Perhaps," she said calmly. "You should ask your superiors for instructions."

"We can't risk you tracing the message," said Teguese stubbornly.

Aria groaned aloud. "Send it to Earthgov to pass along for us, you paranoid maniac."

Teguese glared at her for the name-calling and she glared back. Delenn had had enough of this nonsense. She signaled to the waiting Anla'shok, grateful that she'd had the forethought to select two Humans as escorts. Perhaps these people would be calmer around them.

"We will continue this after you've had time to rest and contact your superiors," said Delenn. Normally she would have chosen a more diplomatic phrasing, but felt that a direct order was more likely to achieve results in this case. "These Rangers will show you to guest cabins."

Teguese strode after the Rangers without another word to the Minbari. Aria followed, but paused in the doorway, her expression torn between anger and contriteness.

"Sorry about, well," she stammered and sighed as if she'd lost the will to continue trying to salvage the situation.

Nothing about this meeting had gone as Delenn expected. She could not fathom why everything had gone so wrong, unless there was yet another problem she was unaware of. She waited until she was sure they were well out of Human hearing range before turning to the other Minbari.

Nerlise bowed humbly. "I take full responsibility, Entil'Zha."

"What happened?" Delenn asked.

"They fervently objected to being transferred to your ship."

Delenn closed her eyes, dreading the answer. "How fervently?"

"It required five of the Defa'Rosh's crew to deposit them in the flyer without harming them -"

Delenn's eyes flew open in horror. She hadn't thought it was that bad.

"- and two of my aides to restrain Mr. Teguese from attacking the pilot," Nerlise finished saying.

Delenn's earlier order to Nerlise to bring the Humans aboard came back to haunt her. The idea that the Humans would physically resist never occurred to her. That they would argue, bluster, threaten, before eventually cooperating for the opportunity to complain to a higher authority, yes. Not this. The exposure of their Immortals was having a worse effect on the Humans than she'd thought.

"I should have asked for further instructions-" Nerlise was saying.

"You are not to blame," said Delenn. "I am. I misjudged the situation. You did as well as you could under the circumstances and avoided causing injury to them. Were any of you harmed?"

"Nothing significant," Nerlise replied.

"Good. I apologize for placing you all through such an ordeal," said Delenn with a bow. The others bowed in return. "Now I must ask for forgiveness from the Humans before the negotiations begin."

- o0o -

Delenn arrived early, as did the other Minbari. She was rather glad that of all their messengers, the Grey Council had chosen Nerlise to represent them. Delenn's investigation of her past was quite thorough and she determined that Nerlise was a typical religious caste Minbari. She had no personal grievances towards Humans and though she had little patience for their immoderation, she generally spoke well of them. Most Minbari found it easiest to express warmth or praise for Humans when not actually around them. Delenn could sympathize, despite becoming half Human and marrying one, they were sometimes extremely alien to her.

The trait Delenn appreciated most in Nerlise was that she avoided referring to the war whenever possible. It explained why Nerlise was chosen to negotiate a matter normally under the purview of the warrior caste.

Delenn's purpose in being here was not so clear. Earth's representative to the Interstellar Alliance had made no requests for aid from the Rangers or the ISA. When other representatives offered assistance, he'd rebuffed them stating that Earth was not prepared to accept help from anyone at present. Yet this delegation came in secrecy implying that they were here to do just that. Confused by the exclusion of the ISA, the Grey Council had asked Delenn to personally offer the Rangers' support.

As they waited for the Humans to arrive, Nerlise updated Delenn on what little she'd learned about this group.

"They are not part of Earth, Mars or any of the other Human colonies' governments, yet they are empowered with full authority to negotiate on behalf of all Humans to resolve the Immortal crisis. Also, I have reason to believe Earth pressured this particular group into coming."

"So their displeasure is not restricted to us."

"The Grey Council was unable to obtain any further information about them," Nerlise said grimly. "Not even the name of their organization."

"That is most unusual for Humans," Delenn commented. "And odd that the council doesn't know."

"The council is not surprised that aliens have discovered the Immortals, though it is difficult to believe such a broken and disorganized race as the Narns could be responsible for their exposure."

Delenn could not argue with that. "Yes, I wonder that we did not discover them ourselves."

Although most of the other races had been in contact with Earth far longer than the Minbari, it still surprised Delenn that they hadn't found the Immortals. If not during the war against Earth, then they should have later when numerous Humans joined the Anla'shok. Or perhaps some Minbari had and helped to hide those Humans from further discovery. Delenn realized that she'd have to investigate the possibility that Immortals were hidden in the ranks of the Anla'shok.

"I suppose we must coax the secret out of them," Nerlise said with a hint of resentment in her voice.

"Surely you sympathize with the Humans' plight?" Delenn asked in surprise.

Nerlise was only a little younger than Delenn had been when Babylon 5 was established, but she ducked her head abashedly like a child at the scolding. "Immortality is a prize everyone wants," Nerlise said sadly, instead of answering Delenn's question.

Delenn was about to reply, but stopped herself as the Humans entered the room. They took the four chairs on the opposite side of the table and began arranging various plastic printouts, data entry tools and other accoutrements Delenn normally associated with the Humans' business caste, not diplomats.

"I hope you are aware," Teguese began haughtily without offering a greeting, "how reluctant we were to meet with you."

Delenn could understand. The Minbari people were themselves unused to sharing their secrets with outsiders. The Humans were as a rule far too unguarded, something she observed that caused them to stumble many times, her husband included. This group's demeanor was beyond merely restrained.

"We understand that your position is a precarious one," Nerlise answered. "Earth cannot prevent aliens from kidnapping Immortals, even worse attempting to prove they are doing so could well result in war."

"Not just the Immortals. Since they don't know how to detect immortality, they're preying on any Human they can. Murdering and dissecting us," he spat out. "The number of incidences is growing daily and the Interstellar Alliance can do nothing when their own members' governments will not admit to imprisoning our people. They claim it's all isolated incidents over which they have no control or responsibility."

Delenn listened quietly. They had yet to actually ask for help. Was it pride or fear? Or something else? The Grey Council hoped that they'd request the Rangers' assistance. The Rangers' autonomy made them the best suited for the task and ought to appeal to the Humans. Delenn wondered if it was the Rangers' connection to the Interstellar Alliance that was hindering them. If so, her presence could be causing their hesitation now.

"The Minbari Federation would like to offer all Humans our support in freeing those held against their will and transporting them to safety whether they be Immortal or not. We will not interrogate them, nor violate their person. To carry out this task, we will require access to all you know of Immortals," Nerlise stated softly.

Though kindly spoken, the actual terms were not as gentle as Delenn was expecting. They at least suited the Humans' preference for directness.

"I'm not prepared to give you everything. Some information certainly, but even we do not know as much as we'd like about the Immortals. Earthgov only learned of their existence a century ago and has managed to identify and keep track of very few of them."

"If we do not know it all, how are we to know how to protect and approach the Immortals?"

Delenn noticed a hint of frustration creeping into Nerlise's voice, not surprising given that she was expected to obtain something the Humans were not likely to share.

Teguese was becoming very uncomfortable now. "You don't understand, some things cannot be revealed. It's too dangerous for them and us."

Nerlise looked at Delenn, her eyes pleading for help in encouraging them to cooperate. Delenn noticed that Teguese had not commented on what they were offering and wondered if he truly believed them.

"Be assured," Delenn said, "no Minbari would be so barbaric as to deliberately hurt an Immortal. However, if we try to help them without knowing what to do, they may not trust us, could attack us and we could even mistakenly do them harm."

Delenn watched the Humans' faces cycle through emotions as they whispered together. They were most displeased, yet were also clearly desperate. They didn't want to trust any Minbari, yet Delenn was certain that they had to know that Minbari could be relied on not to inflict harm on an Immortal.

"It isn't that simple," he insisted. "Lending aid is not enough."

"Not enough?" Nerlise burst out in irritation before stopping herself abruptly and regaining her calm composure.

"We want... no, we demand," Taguese emphasized, "to know the truth about certain events your people have previously kept silent on."

"To what events are you referring?" Nerlise asked in genuine confusion.

Delenn was surprised that he'd questioned their honesty without actually calling them liars, an offense that would normally require a Minbari to kill him, though they took care not to do so to aliens as a rule. Perhaps he was wiser, or at least more informed about Minbari culture, than she'd thought.

"What really happened to Ambassador Sinclair?" he asked intently and his companions likewise leaned forward a little in their seats in anticipation of the answer.

Delenn was bewildered at his question. It hadn't been on the agenda at all. His tone of voice made it sound as though he were deviating from his instructions. "Why do you ask this? As your people were informed three of your years ago, Ambassador Sinclair was regrettably lost in an accident."

As she watched, the entire group became angry in unison. If he was adding this demand without Earth's knowledge, then the entire group was in on it.

"We have reason to believe that he is not dead," he cautiously answered, as if afraid to reveal too much. Yet his expression said it all.

Delenn sat backward in her chair quickly, the implications sending her thoughts into a jumble. She'd have to inform the Grey Council at once. Then call John, and Susan would wish to know as well as Mr. Garibaldi, of course... but not yet, she made herself slow down. It would not do to build up their hopes. Until she was certain, Delenn decided, only the council could be told of her suspicions.

"Sinclair is Immortal?" Nerlise whispered in awe, shattering Delenn's plans. Her question caused the rest of the Minbari, all of them rather young aides, to gasp.

Teguese stood so quickly Delenn was unable to do more than wonder at his anger.

"If he is dead," he growled viciously as he looked down at them. "There will be another war, I promise you."

Delenn stood as well, but slowly as if that might calm him down. "I will contact my government. Should I obtain all of the information about Ambassador Sinclair that you require, will you grant us all you know about him in exchange?"

He looked calculatingly at her for a moment before answering. "Agreed."

- o0o -

They met again an hour later. The Grey Council had come to an agreement easily. The possibility that Sinclair was an Immortal, alive somewhere in the galaxy, was more than enough of an incentive. Delenn was relieved that Nerlise was already aware of much of the details about Sinclair's time as an ambassador and Entil'Zha on Minbar. Even the messenger's aides knew that the explanation the council provided Earth with was half-truth, half fabrication. Gossip and speculation that Sinclair possessed a Minbari soul and that he was the reason that the council had ended the Earth/Minbari War was still sufficiently abundant that Delenn was spared from having to go into much detail.

While confirming the rumors did not shock her audience, telling them the rest of the truth about Sinclair turned their perceptions upside down. The higher-ranking Anla'shok had experienced much the same in the wake of Sinclair's departure to the distant past. Apparently, the Rangers and the council had kept those revelations to themselves better than Delenn had hoped, if most of those who served the council were unaware that Sinclair was Valen.

She watched as the Humans took in her words. Their reactions were much like those of Nerlise and her entourage when she'd told them the same only minutes before this second meeting began. There was only one fact she'd withheld from the Humans, the most important one for her people. It had shaken the souls of the other Minbari. The Grey Council did not want her to reveal the name Sinclair used on Minbar a thousand years ago to the Humans unless absolutely necessary.

"So, what you are telling us," Taguese said in a shaky voice. "Is that not only did you send Sinclair into the past, but you gave him a machine that he used to make himself partly Minbari the same way you did to become partly Human?"

"Yes."

"And he lived on Minbar for decades?"

"He did," confirmed Delenn. "We know when he left Minbar, but we have no record of Sinclair's death."

"Then he might still be alive, providing that transformation," he waved a hand nervously as he spoke, "didn't compromise his immortality."

"The Grey Council believes that there is a chance it did not."

"But you said that the travel through time caused him to physically grow older. Once immortality is awakened, an Immortal's body ceases to age."

That made Delenn pause. She'd seen Jeffrey's face become lined and his hair grey when they'd traveled forward in time on Babylon 4. He'd stated quite plainly that continuing forward with them to their own time would surely kill him. However, now she wondered did he mean he would truly die or only temporarily die? Could the time distortion's severe aging effect have killed him?

"We have only a few, blurred images of him that only the council may see," said Nerlise suddenly, her voice growing steadier as she voiced her speculation. "However his appearance upon arrival must have been sufficiently youthful for he lived on Minbar for nearly a century without anyone suspecting he wasn't aging appropriately."

The young woman, Aria, leaned over to speak to their leader. "Corbin," she spoke in barely a whisper, but it was quite audible in the room. "The rapid aging may have been more of a breakdown of cells, like radiation exposure or burns. His immortality would be slower to reverse it, but he'd heal completely once away from the time travel's effects."

The rest of the Humans nodded as looks of hope spread across their faces and they all began to babble at each other.

"We need to find out if any of his friends -"

"- if one was in contact with a Minbari recently -"

"Aria, start by scanning the Minbari database of citizens -"

"- if they have ID photos -"

"If I may," said Delenn suddenly over the din. "It is time for your half of the bargain."

They settled down reluctantly, their excitement barely contained and with a much friendlier manner.

"Yes," Taguese said, nodding his head in that odd way Humans did. "First, you need to know a little about our purpose. We," he waved to his three companions, "are Watchers. For thousands of years, our organization has recorded the lives of Immortals secretly to ensure that even the Immortals who perish will not be forgotten." He looked to his left. "Mrs. Sisen?"

The older woman stood and placed a secure case on the table, the kind frequently used by Humans to transport valuable documents and data crystals. She unlocked it with great care. Inside was a wrapped, rectangular object that she slowly placed in front of Delenn. With great reverence, she pulled back the wrapping to reveal an ancient book.

Delenn leaned closer to get a better look at the animal skin cover and metal clasps. Embossed on the front was a symbol, a circle ringed with thirteen dots and an almost triangular shape in the center. Below it were words in a language Delenn didn't recognize yet the script was quite similar to the modern letters used by Humans. The other Minbari crowded around her as they too began to understand what the book was. Delenn knew one of the words on the cover quite well, even written in the Human language.

"Valen," she whispered in awe.

"Yes, these are the Chronicles of Valen. This book is one of many volumes in which previous Watchers have recorded Valen's life as they witnessed it for over twenty-seven centuries."

"Three thousand, seven hundred and four years now," Reth, the gruff looking man sitting against the wall corrected him. "Adding the millennium they claim he's spent on Minbar."

Taguese ignored the interruption. "I am Valen's Watcher. Normally, I follow him and record his life, but when he was made ambassador to Minbar, it was necessary to send another Watcher. It was meant to be a temporary assignment until I arrived."

"Then Clark enacted martial law on Earth," said Mrs. Sisen, "and all communication with Minbar was terminated. This did not concern anyone at the time, as it was still possible to travel to Minbar. Watchers often have gone for years unable to contact our headquarters. When communication was finally reestablished, we discovered that our Watcher had died early in the Shadow conflict and all the recent records were missing, presumed destroyed."

"Then you suddenly declared Valen to be dead before anyone could reach Minbar," the gruff man said.

"Reth," Taguese said warningly.

"At first," continued Mrs. Sisen, "we believed he had simply moved on. It is crucial that Immortals change their identities before someone begins to question why they are not aging. Valen spent twenty-three years using the name Sinclair. It was time for him to change it again."

"I expected to locate him again in a matter of months," said Teguese. "A year at most. He's one of the few Immortals that are aware we are recording his life and he has never made any effort to hide from us. Even Earthgov knows he's Immortal, but he doesn't seem to mind."

Delenn's mind was reeling as she tried to absorb all that they were telling her. She opened the book's cover hardly daring to breathe lest she somehow damage it. It was so fragile and old. The pages were stiff and yellow, made not of paper, but more animal skin. Yet the colors of the illustrations were as brilliant as the crystal windows in Minbar's greatest temples. She was accustomed to Human designs being nearly colorless and simplistic, she had no idea they could create such a beautiful manuscript.

Taguese placed three cases of data crystals onto the table. "Here is a copy of the entire Valen Chronicle, both scans of the original hand written volumes and modern translations. You may keep this book."

"Keep it?" Nerlise exclaimed. The other Minbari echoed her astonishment, a few in their own caste language rather than in Human words.

"We know how much Valen means to you."

"You knew?" Delenn stated bluntly and with a hint of suspicion. The Grey Council had not wanted to reveal that when he became a Minbari, Sinclair was called Valen, except as a last resort to obtain what they wanted to know about Immortals. How could the Humans guess so easily that he used his birth name in the past?

"It's easy to make the connection after what you just told us," he admitted. "With the way your people are always referring to him in everything you do, I'm not the only Watcher to be curious about the identical name and find the other similarities an interesting coincidence. It's nice to know someone else appreciates him."

"Now," said Mrs. Sisen, "do you understand why we don't want to reveal everything we know about Immortals?"

"Yes," Nerlise murmured absently, still distracted with the book.

"So, your people will help protect Humans, all Humans, and aid in rescuing Immortals from aliens?"

"We will," Delenn answered for Nerlise. "And so will the Rangers. Perhaps, we could search for Valen together?"

"We'd be delighted. Thank you."

The tension in the room seemed to dissipate at once. Two of the Watchers let out rather loud noises of relief and one actually slumped in her chair. Not the proper level of decorum Delenn expected from people dedicated to Valen's life, but she was willing to grant them a little latitude in this situation. The group broke up as different Watchers began consulting their handheld computers and the Minbari pored over the manuscript.

Delenn walked to a nearby window, but didn't really see the orange hyperspace outside. Rather she found herself at odds with her own beliefs. Like most of her caste, she'd always believed Valen would return. Yet, once she'd met Sinclair, she concluded that was the return prophesied. True, it wasn't precisely a return, but rather the beginning of his journey, yet it was the only thing that fit the facts. She'd not lost all her faith in the prophecies that had yet to come to pass, but regarded them as warnings of what paths to avoid based on Sinclair's wisdom and understanding of her people. They were ambiguous possibilities at best and the only thing she knew for certain was that Valen would never return. Now, she was far from sure and afraid to hope she was wrong.

"Amazing how completely their attitude has changed," Nerlise commented dryly in Adronato with a glance at the Humans before returning to the book. "Fewer people would view them with such disdain if they behaved in this pleasing manner more often."

"I suspect their erratic behavior is a reflection of how all Humans are feeling just now. Cornered," replied Delenn as she walked near the table.

"Valen could be anywhere," a wide-eyed aide whispered to another, terror tingeing his voice. "Traveling through the galaxy unprotected."

"We will find him," his fellow answered, also in their own language. "We might be among those who meet him," she murmured excitedly.

"Think of all of the Valen sightings over the centuries," Nerlise said. "Suppose some of them weren't visions, but Valen himself?"

Visions. It reminded Delenn of something she'd experienced as a child. She'd been very young, too young at the time to understand her family's speculation that she'd seen a vision of Valen while she was lost in the city that day long ago. As an adult, she'd never had the courage to believe it herself, thinking only those with the power to understand its meaning would be blessed with a vision. She'd received no revelations therefore it could not have been a vision, but merely a kind priest guarding a lost child. Now, she wondered if Sinclair had watched for her birth and met her…

"Nerlise," said Delenn suddenly, wanting to ask questions about Valen. "Tell me, how do I pronounce the name of the youngest Watcher? Their names were not written in your report."

Nerlise looked up, mortification spreading across her face. "I'm afraid I cannot quite recall the precise syllables…"

"Aria Dakirounisha," her aide said, saving her from further embarrassment.

"Are you certain?" Delenn asked.

"Reasonably so."

Delenn tried the syllables 'Are-ree-ah Dack-key-row-knee-sha' silently on her tongue. Feeling she had no other options but to try, she walked slowly around the table to the Watchers.

The woman looked up from her console as Delenn approached.

"If I may," Delenn began. "Ms. –"

"Please, call me Aria," she answered with a long-suffering smile. "Everyone butchers my last name, even back home."

"Aria," said Delenn with a smile. "I would like to ask, how long have you followed Valen?"

"Oh, I don't watch Valen. My assignment is the Immortal the Narns kidnapped, so I'm stuck with the research department for the moment."

"Research?"

"Yes, until I find Benson again."

"So, Valen's Watcher and these others are helping you search for Benson?"

Aria nodded. "Benson and Valen are old friends, so we are working together with some senior researchers," she leaned closer to whisper conspiratorially, "old fussbudgets who've never tracked an Immortal in the field. Anyway," she said sitting back, "if we find one of them, we might be able to track down the other. I'm trying not to get my hopes up. They haven't run into each other for many decades as far as I know."

"You've watched Benson for a long time then?"

"Only three years," stammered Aria. "When all that mess with Clark started, my first assignment dropped everything to return to Earth. Practically gave away her off-world business. I'd proven myself able to trail an Immortal on various alien worlds," she said with a hint of pride, "so I was promoted to watching Benson."

That caught Delenn's attention. "Benson is an important Immortal then?"

Aria fairly glowed, she grinned so broadly. "Yes," she almost whispered. "He – "

"Aria!" snapped the gruff older man from behind them.

Aria's enthusiasm deflated bitterly at the interference. "I'm not a child, Reth."

"Don't gossip like one then," Reth grumbled before shuffling away.

Aria contained her anger poorly, but said no more about her assignment.

"Entil'Zha, may I have a word," Teguese asked as the Humans returned to their seats quietly.

The other Minbari did not look pleased at the interruption from their perusal of Valen's Chronicles, but followed Delenn's lead as she also returned to her seat. Teguese placed a set of data printouts in front of her.

"We've prepared for the eventuality that Immortals could be discovered by aliens ever since first contact with the Centauri two hundred years ago. Most of our contingency plans have been rendered useless now," Teguese said with some distaste. "However, we do have a list of aliens we believe are more likely to prey on Immortals."

"The Centauri, Drazi, Vree and obviously the Narns," Delenn read from the list in front of her. "Yes, despite that their physiology is completely different from yours, the temptation alone is enough for both the Centauri and Narns to try kidnapping Immortals. Why the Drazi and Vree?"

"The Drazi are hindered by their close proximity to the Centauri," Teguese conceded. "Yet they are militant enough to want an Immortal's healing ability, if not for their own race then at least to forcibly conscript Immortals to fight for them."

"The Vree might auction off an Immortal just for fun," said Mrs. Sisen in disgust.

Delenn accepted that and said, "Other less likely possibilities are the Brakiri or Gaim. Though the Brakiri are friendly with your people, mostly from centuries of receiving Earth's broadcasts, they might risk it even at the cost of losing business with Earth. I believe we all can agree that if anyone can decipher Immortal genetics, it's the Gaim."

"They live in hives and have poor mechanical defenses. Would they even bother?" Mrs. Sisen asked.

"Perhaps not," Delenn admitted. "The Gaim's lack of individuality does significantly reduce their compulsion to attain personal advantages. The Llort, Pak'ma'ra, and the rest are unlikely threats."

"I agree," said Teguese. "They don't have the resources to protect themselves, much less prevent another race from taking any Immortal they snag. They'd know they'd get no profit from it."

"What about Minbari?" Nerlise asked shrewdly, catching Delenn by surprise. "We are not on your list."

Teguese stared her down, clearly unwilling to answer and not afraid to be rude about it. Aria looked distinctly uncomfortable and Mrs. Sisen merely sullen. They all were silent, except for the gruff man in the back of the room.

He laughed sardonically and said, "You _were_ on it."

"Reth," Teguese warned.

"What?" Reth asked and laughed again. "Don't want our new friends to know they were our number one threat?"

"_Were_," said Teguese turning back to the Minbari, "being the optimum word. That assessment changed when Minbar helped create the Interstellar Alliance."

"So did the Centauri and Narns," Reth countered. "But I don't see any of us shaking their hands. You wouldn't be trusting them," he pointed at the Minbari, "at all if they weren't your key to finding Valen."

"Cut it out!" hissed Aria.

Teguese, Delenn noticed, remained oddly calm. He almost smiled at his colleague. "The Watcher Tribunal agreed with my assessment of the situation. Take it up with them."

Reth glared, but was silent. Delenn was disturbed. Their war with Earth aside, she didn't like that the Watchers had considered her people to be more threatening than any other race. She herself had worked hard to make it abundantly clear that they would not go to war against Earth again, no matter how dearly many of the warrior caste desired to. Likewise, the whole galaxy knew that Minbari did not take prisoners, slaves or participate in kidnapping of any sort. They'd never mistreat the Immortals.

Delenn had encountered this hostility many times on Babylon 5. Yet as her friendship with the station's staff grew, she came to believe that such vicious alien-haters did not make up the majority. Here were people who knew one of their own had become a Minbari, but that knowledge appeared insufficient to clear away all their suspicions.

Had her people's surrender, support in freeing Earth from Clark and seventeen years of peace and their overtures of friendship meant nothing at all?

- o0o -

End Chapter One

Preview of Chapter Two:

The Interstellar Alliance's first order of business was to ask their president if he was an Immortal.

"If that snotty-faced, fluff coming out of his rear…" words to describe that representative were clearly failing John Sheridan as he ranted, "demands I prove I'm not Immortal one more time, I'll…"

Delenn let him vent his frustration. It was painful for her to hear, but she listened anyway. Some of the representatives insisted that John's return from death at Z'ha'dum was proof of immortality and couldn't be convinced otherwise. It was yet another reminder that John's life had a time limit, a short time at that. She knew injury or illness could take him from her sooner or take her from him. However, thinking about that was of no comfort.

Especially since assassination was more likely. Though the Anla'shok prevented most would-be assassins from ever coming close, they had nearly failed to intercept the most recent attempt.


	2. Captive

Title: Valen's Return 

Author: Julie the Tall Terror

Summary: The galaxy learns that some Humans are Immortal. While greedy aliens are after the secret to immortality, the Minbari and Watchers search for a particular Immortal, Valen. Babylon 5/Highlander crossover.

Setting: 2264. The new Interstellar Alliance is still very shaky.

Babylon 5 characters: Valen (Sinclair), Delenn, Catherine, Sheridan, Garibaldi, possibly more.

Highlander the Series characters: Methos, the Watcher organization, possibly more.

You do NOT need to know anything about Highlander: the Series to understand this story. If you do, just enjoy the familiar characters.

Big thanks to John Hightower for creating the Minbari Dictionary at Jumpnow.de and my beta readers, Sarah t and Marianne Todd.

Chapter Two

Captive

_"This was the first time the Grey Council would have direct contact with a Human, in this case Sinclair. He was tortured, interrogated, scanned. During the course of the scan, the Council discovered something terrible. At first, they refused to believe it, so they took in other Humans and had them scanned as well. But it was true."_

-- Lennier, Babylon 5: "Points of Departure"

- o0o -

2264

Present day

Methos, current alias Pierce Benson, lay on a cold stone floor and tried to focus on the tiled ceiling. The design wasn't complicated or even particularly decorative. It wasn't even in Narnish style as far as he knew, though he couldn't be sure, having never visited Narn. It was sloppily mortared in places and there was one tile where the color didn't quite match the rest to the left. The many icicles were probably to blame for the cracks.

He wondered why he cared when whoever built this cell certainly hadn't. It wasn't the worst prison he'd ever been in. That honor was granted to an eminently foul pit in ancient Greece that he didn't like to remember. Though he couldn't help but wish this cell were cleaner, or at least above freezing. The last cell he'd been imprisoned in was actually quite decent, yet far more frightening…

- o0o -

2247

17 years ago

The Battle of the Line

Methos fought the urge to drag his feet as two Minbari warriors hauled him along the corridor. He was certain that he was about to die and could only hope that it wasn't too painful. Or worse, that they chose a wound that his Immortal body could heal all too quickly.

They moved so rapidly that the curved door at the end of the passage barely opened in time and he got only a glimpse of two guards flanking the entrance. It was absolutely dark inside, yet the Minbari continued across the room undeterred. Then the last thing Methos expected occurred, he sensed another Immortal. Immortals were always able to detect when another of their kind was near. Were the Minbari collecting Immortals? How could they know what he was?

Whether the Immortal he sensed was a fellow prisoner or a traitor, Methos didn't know or care. Panicking, he pulled back against the Minbari with all his might and tripped them up. For a brief moment, he was free. He heard a blow coming before it landed and ducked. Yet it was his fear that hindered him more than the darkness. A gloved hand grabbed his collar and another door opened. The light from inside blinded him making it easy for the warriors to throw him into the room.

He fell heavily to the metal deck and scrambled backward until he felt his back hit the now shut door. As his eyes adjusted Methos could see what he had already sensed, that he was not alone. Another soldier was sitting on a low bench, watching him. For a moment, the two Immortals could only stare at each other in surprise. He considered what to say carefully. Just because the Minbari didn't respond to anything he said didn't mean they didn't understand him or know many more of Earth's languages. They'd had two years to study humanity while waging war. Just the idea that some aliens might have the technology to decipher their spoken words made him too paranoid to risk speaking freely, even in an ancient language long forgotten by most of humanity.

Methos finally said the only greeting he knew to be safe. "Hello, old friend."

What had once been a necessary form of addressing one another had over time become almost a ritual greeting between them. It was the safest choice given how frequently old Immortals changed their public identities. It wouldn't do to call each other by the wrong alias, or worse, by their real names when others might be listening in.

"Hello, old friend," Valen repeated back with a sad smile. "You are the last person I'd expect to see on a battlefield."

"Well, the war is over. Supposed to be anyway," said Methos ruefully.

Valen stared at him in shock. "How? When?"

"Eight, maybe nine hours ago at least. I'm not sure how long I was out after the Minbari captured me. I was with a retrieval crew, searching for survivors in life pods, when one of the Minbari war cruisers parked over Earth suddenly picked us up."

Methos' face darkened. "They forced their way into our ship and pumped it full of gas. I woke up to see my whole crew and I strapped to slanted boards. I thought they were dead at first, but it seems they're only drugged. The Minbari were not happy I was awake. They got even more upset when an injection of another drug didn't work."

Valen nodded. Immortal healing tended to fight off weak or slow acting drugs. Lethal ones did tend to work, but only temporarily. "So, they weren't trying to kill you."

"No, at least not yet. I never saw what they were doing to the others," frustration clouded his voice. "The Minbari never took prisoners before. They shouldn't be doing this. They surrendered."

"The Minbari _surrendered_?" echoed Valen, absolutely stunned.

"After a fashion. The last news report I heard said that they were still negotiating terms with Earthgov. Rumor has it that they'll permit us to at least live." Methos laughed sardonically. "How long have you been in here?"

"Longer than nine hours. At the beginning of the battle I tried to..." Valen stopped as though re-evaluating his words. "I got too close to one of the war cruisers and was hit. They pulled me in, but the drugs didn't work long on me either. I broke loose and tried to fight them off."

"They tortured you." Methos guessed from the half smeared bloodstains on Valen's face and dried blood on his flight suit.

"Something like that. I lost consciousness pretty quickly."

"How bad?" Methos was asking whether his injuries were severe enough to reveal his Immortal healing.

"Nothing that lasted long enough for them to take special notice. So," Valen paused, squinting at Methos' jacket nametag, "Lt. P. Benson?"

Methos gave a short laugh. "It's Pierce. I couldn't escape the draft."

"Liar," Valen said in a friendly tone. "You'd be deep in Centauri space right now if you wanted to be."

Methos ignored the jab at his philosophy of putting himself above all others. He knew Valen was pleased to see him fighting for Earth and wouldn't give him the satisfaction of admitting it.

"So, Squad Leader J. Sinclair, huh?" Methos asked abruptly. "Reliving your glory days?"

"Catherine's idea of a joke. She took care of our last change," the words 'in identity' were left unspoken. "'Jeffrey,' since that is what she first knew me as, and then what she considered a modern version of an old name from my days in a monastery. They called me Clarus."

Methos grinned. "And it is entirely coincidence that a monk with that name was elevated to sainthood?"

"Entirely," Valen insisted, also grinning. "I wasn't there long enough to earn any kind of distinction and I was never a monk. What about you? Still Benjamin, or Pierson, or Adam? You are making it easy for the Watchers or Earthgov to find you."

"I'm careful."

"Since we are on the subject," Valen paused, distress etching his features, "I thought... earlier I thought I heard some of the Minbari say my name. My _birth_ name. Several times." Clearly unable to trust himself to say it aloud, he looked at Methos and mouthed the word Valen.

Methos' reaction was tensely controlled. He stiffened slightly and his eyes narrowed, but gave no outward sign of how furious his thoughts were. If the Minbari could read English, they would have known that the name on Valen's flight suit said J. Sinclair. How could the Minbari know his real name? Surely, Valen wouldn't have revealed his name even under torture, would he?

"Perhaps the syllables happen to be part of their words," said Methos in a tense voice.

Valen only sighed.

The Minbari couldn't know they were Immortal. Neither of them had suffered sufficient injuries to reveal the speed with which their bodies healed. No one had attended to the small scrapes and even the blood on Valen's face was very little. Any internal injuries the Minbari might have caused were long since healed so that they'd never know they'd happened should they examine him now.

Methos didn't expect to remain on this ship long enough for anyone to wonder why they didn't at least develop a few bruises. Feeling cynical, he decided that neither of them would keep their secret for long, surely the Minbari would kill them. Once they discovered the truth, the Minbari would proceed to repeat killing them many times, he had no doubt.

"Maybe they'll push us out an airlock." Valen murmured, as if thinking the same thing.

"They can't know, not yet, unless…" Methos said, frowning. "Did they point a triangle thing at you?"

"Yes," Valen exclaimed and looked at him sharply. "What did it do to you?"

"Nothing. I woke up with the thing only inches from my nose. Scared the hell out of the guy holding it."

"Grey robes, hood covering the face?"

"Yeah."

"There's a crowd of them out there." Valen gestured with his thumb towards the door. "Whatever that triangle was doing, I never felt anything, but…." He trailed off shaking his head and looked grim.

"Maybe it did nothing then."

"No, something happened. It lit up every time they pointed it at me."

"Not for me. It should have reacted the same if it was detecting what we are," said Methos, his eyebrows raised. "Brainwashing?"

Valen snorted. "Hardly."

"Good. If the Minbari begin to seem cute and cuddly to you, let me know," said Methos. "What about mind-reading? That could give them the name that isn't on your jacket."

"A telepathic machine? I suppose some aliens might be advanced enough to create such a thing. If they were, I doubt it did them much good. 'Kill them' and 'why are they doing this' were my only thoughts."

"And even we 'mundanes' can feel a deep scan. Unless that triangle thing is more sophisticated than a telepath."

"We've got to get out of here," murmured Valen in real alarm and then he frowned.

"Any ideas?" asked Methos.

"Maybe. You?"

"I know the way to the room my drugged crewmen are held in, that's all."

"I think I'd recognize the corridor they wheeled me down from the hanger bay."

"At least that's something."

"Can't get through the door," Valen pointed out.

"And there are two guards in the hall outside the dark room."

"Does this seem like a strange brig to you?"

Methos gave Valen a puzzled look before turning his eyes on the room. It was bare and small, as he expected a cell to be. The soft greenish blue color on the wall was actually quite pleasant. The high ceiling had one triangular air vent, larger than he'd expected for so small a room, but only a small woman could fit through it, not a man. The bench they were sitting on was a solid piece projecting from the wall and the single light was over the door. There were no other features, not even anything to suggest a camera though Methos was not willing to rule it out.

Valen noticed his confusion and elaborated. "They've hauled me back in that dark room three or four times already and it's always the same. Two guards restrain me to a bar while the grey robed gang gibbers nervously under the spotlights. Guards return and stuff me in here."

"Sounds like a makeshift interrogation."

"So, maybe this is a makeshift cell," said Valen as he looked up at the ventilation cover again. "There's an easy way to find out."

Methos followed his gaze and looked back at Valen with something akin to scorn. "That only works in vids. Besides, they'd stop us before we even got the cover off."

"At least we'll know if this is only a broom cupboard."

Methos sighed once and agreed, "Not like we've anything else to do."

Standing on the bench, Valen was just tall enough to reach the vent and unhinge the cover with his fingertips if he jumped. As Methos expected, the ventilation duct above was no wider than the length of his shoe. Only in vids could people creep through ducting. Methos didn't get a chance to voice more scathing comments.

With one shove, Valen broke the clasps holding the ducting in place and pushed it aside to reveal a crawlspace. It made less noise than Methos would have expected, however Valen quickly replaced the cover and stepped down. They waited perhaps a minute, but no one came to investigate the sounds Valen made jumping up and down like that.

"I need you to dislocate my left shoulder," said Valen as calmly as if he were commenting on the weather. "It's the only way to get through there."

"What? I'm not doing that!"

"Why not? I can handle a little pain."

"No, _I_ am not doing that," Methos emphasized. His fists came down on Valen's shoulder, knocking the arm from the socket. "You can suffer all you want."

Methos smirked as Valen doubled over, struggling to catch his breath. One of the advantages of being Immortal was that the pain from injuries or dying didn't last long. Yet, when your body attempted to heal something twisted out of place, it was excruciating.

It was hardly a feat of acrobatics, but using his good arm and with Methos' help, Valen climbed into the crawlspace.

He looked back down at Methos who was sitting calmly on the bench. "Well?" Valen asked.

"Well, what?" answered Methos. "In case you haven't noticed, there isn't anyone down here to shove me up there."

"I can pull you through."

"With one good arm?"

Valen's face disappeared and there was the unmistakable thud of a person falling heavily. Methos shook his head in exasperation. "You should have moved away from here before popping your arm back in."

"Yes," came Valen's hoarse voice as he returned to the opening and extended a hand down. "So, we don't have much time if they check out sounds above them. Now move!"

Methos took Valen's arm deciding abruptly that any escape attempt was certain to be painful, if not temporarily fatal. So, he might as well try Valen's way. It was worse. Not only did Valen dislocate his arm to pull him through, but also broke his collarbone. Methos wasn't entirely certain it wasn't on purpose. At least he didn't have to fall backwards onto his own arm in order to push it back in place.

For a moment, they knelt hunched over trying to get their bearings. The ceiling below them felt solid enough and was covered in various smooth crystalline encased cables. The crawlspace had a wall exactly where the doorway below was, indicating that the ceiling of the outer dark room was much higher.

"I think the hangers are that way." Valen pointed to their right.

"That's the same direction they took me from my crew. Follow the ductwork?"

"Yeah, this duct has a seal, so this crawlspace might not have its own air supply."

"I'd think we would hear an alarm if that was the case," said Methos as he latched the vent's cover. The duct itself couldn't be resealed, but he placed it over the vent anyway cutting off their only light. Hopefully, it would take a little time to be noticed.

"Let's go."

They followed the ducting by feel for some minutes in the stifling crawlspace. The darkness was absolute and their knees hurt from sliding over the crystal encased cables. Methos kept scraping his head on the floor above him because he couldn't see when to duck. Each time they reached another vent, they pulled away the duct to see what was below and were greeted by a gust of cooler air. They found the corridor Valen recognized and followed it before a junction forced them to turn. Several identical looking rooms and two unfamiliar passages later, Valen had to admit he was lost.

"We've got to go back down," said Valen.

"Roaming the hallways will only get us caught."

"We could wander in circles for hours and never know it. I'd rather take my chances in the halls."

"Or maybe we'll find a connection to the other levels," Methos suggested. "Some passage that goes through the entire ship." It sounded ridiculous even to his ears, but unlike Valen he didn't like their odds of fighting their way through one Minbari warrior, much less a whole warship full of them.

"All right," Valen reluctantly agreed. "But only a little while longer. Is it getting warmer in here?"

"Yeah. Is there too much carbon dioxide?"

"I don't think so – Agh!" Valen yelled and scrambled backward. "Hot!"

Methos moved aside just in time to avoid getting kicked. To his surprise, he could faintly identify the cables across the way. It wasn't as dark here. Carefully, he moved forward to look around the corner and was hit by a blast of hot air.

Squinting against the warmth, Methos could see a light coming from another triangluar grate in the wall. The ceiling they were crawling above felt cool despite the heat, obviously a well insulated material. Methos led the way to the grate and knocked it out with his feet. He looked down and swore under his breath.

"Its too far down."

"How far?"

"Valen…"

"How far?" he repeated sternly.

Methos sighed. "Enough to kill us."

"Get going then."

Breaking his own bones in order to fit through a small space was rapidly becoming Methos' second most hated experience in the universe. It made the long drop and painful collision with the floor below just insulting. Despite Methos' dire prediction, both managed to survive the fall with some dignity.

"Its like an oven in here," said Valen once they'd both recovered from their injuries.

It was an exaggeration. Methos had suffered worse temperatures traveling across Earth's deserts, yet he wasn't eager to remain here either. The heat was emanating from a large three-sided device in the center of the room. It looked to be about two or three decks high with a series of vents along the room's walls, floor and ceiling allowing the heat out and cooler air in. Whatever else its purpose might be, Methos had no clue.

"Well," said Methos as he walked around the room examining the narrow vents. "Which one would you like to -" he stopped short. On the other side of the device was a door.

Valen looked at the simple access panel. "Might as well," he said and pushed the only button.

They were in luck. The door slid open silently to a cooler, but still warm corridor. It was a relief to leave the worst of the heat behind. It was a narrow passage requiring them to walk in single file to another door at the far end.

There was nothing for it but to open this door, too. The difference in air this time was almost chilling. Methos wondered if they'd left the oven for a freezer as they walked out into a passage that looked identical to all the others they'd looked down on from the vents.

"Which way?" Methos asked. He had long since lost his sense of direction in this place.

"No idea."

They were only going to get caught this way, but Methos could think of no alternative. He randomly picked a direction and took point while Valen kept watch behind them. They switched places at each junction walking as quietly as their boots would allow. Methos considered taking his shoes off, but didn't like his chances of running on metal with sweaty feet. They made it around the first corner without incident and passed several corridors, looking down each for any indication of a transport tube. None of the few closed doors they saw had anything distinctive about them.

It was around the next corner that they found trouble.

Valen was the one who looked carefully around the edge and saw them. He used simple hand signals to tell Methos that they could go no further, that there were two Minbari in the next corridor. Methos nodded in acknowledgement and turned to keep an eye behind them while Valen walked backwards trying his best not to be heard and keep watch in front of himself.

A loud gasp and even louder thud told him it hadn't worked. Methos spun to see Valen standing over a Minbari in brown robes. The scuffle was too loud to go unnoticed. Instantly, Methos ran forward and passed them without another glance. He was forced to slow slightly as he rounded the corner, but didn't stop running. There ahead was the second Minbari standing on a stepstool, one hand still reaching for an air vent and his mouth open in astonishment. Methos realized that his and Valen's trudge through the crawl space must have triggered some kind of malfunction signal.

The Minbari didn't remain shocked for long. He leaped to the floor and fairly shrieked into some kind of communication device as he ran away down the passage. Methos' surprise attack didn't give him the advantage he'd hoped for and the Minbari was very quick on his feet. Claxons began wailing before Methos even passed the stepstool. Up ahead was the transport tube they'd been searching for and the Minbari darted into it. Methos slammed into the doors just seconds after they shut. He hit the button, hoping that if nothing else another tube would come so they could at least get off this level.

Valen swore as he slid to a stop beside Methos.

Methos was too busy trying to catch his breath to say the many things running through his mind. He hit the button again and it made a decidedly negative sound.

"Back," Valen decided and ran the way they came.

Methos followed, slowing only to grab the stepstool lying on the floor. The Minbari Valen had attacked was little more than a heap of brown cloth on the floor, probably only unconscious given how difficult they were to kill and how little time Valen had to subdue him. Valen didn't spare him a glance, but continued running rapidly down the corridor, so Methos did the same.

Valen retraced their steps. A shout went up in the second corridor they passed. Methos caught a glimpse of black uniforms before the sound of their pounding feet filled his ears and drove him to run faster. They dashed for the passage to the heated room. Methos spared a glance behind them at the empty corridor just before he reached it. He exhaled in relief as the door shut behind him. The warriors outside would be running past in a moment. The door seemed to cut off all sound.

Methos was fast approaching exhaustion and struggled vainly to get his breathing under control. Much to his annoyance, Valen appeared to have no such difficulty. Methos supposed it was only logical, given how earnestly he avoided participating in combat, that his proficiency would be so reduced now.

"Maybe they didn't see us," he answered as they backed quietly along the passage. "Get anything off the other Minbari?" he asked hopefully.

"No," replied Valen.

To their dismay, the door slid open before they could escape to the heated room and a massive Minbari stepped in brandishing what looked like a metal staff. Valen and Methos ran forward and slammed into him, their combined weight sending him sprawling backwards into the warrior behind him.

Valen ran for the second door while Methos followed using the stepstool as a shield. The narrow passage made it difficult for the Minbari to pursue and attack effectively. The Immortals stumbled into the strange room and keyed the door shut.

"No lock," said Methos as he flattened himself against the wall. His sweating palms were making it difficult to grip the metal legs. He wasn't too proud to fight with furniture, but it was a poor comfort in any case.

"Go for the ankles."

"What?"

"The stepstool," Valen hissed under his breath.

Belatedly Methos realized that holding the stepstool to strike at the first attacker's head wasn't the best choice. While hitting a Minbari in the nose might slow him down, there was an equal chance that the dense headbone would prevent any useful damage.

Methos crouched low just in time as the door slid open. However, no one walked through it, rather a single fist came into view. It happened too fast for Methos to see well from his vantage point. There was a metallic sound and the empty fist suddenly held a staff seemingly from nowhere.

The staff's rapid expansion struck Valen's ribcage sending him crashing into the wall. Methos was grateful he was below it. The first Minbari strode quickly into the room without even looking in Methos' direction, but going toward Valen. Methos' second of hesitation ruined his opportunity to strike him, however he managed to swing the stepstool into the second warrior's path.

The Minbari's belated attempt to leap over the obstacle just did save her from falling, but it delayed her from fully blocking Methos' next swing at her lower back. She stumbled, but the stepstool couldn't withstand her armor and bent. She spun around, striking it with her forearm. It snapped leaving Methos with a single metal leg to defend himself with against the knives protruding from the back of her glove.

Then she shot him.

Methos stared blankly at the weapon in her other hand. He'd focused too much on the knives and never saw it coming. He wondered why he hadn't seen a flash of light before realizing the gun-like machine couldn't be a plasma-based weapon. A silent projectile then, he decided as he looked down at the blood soaking his shirt. He dropped the useless piece of metal and pressed his hands against his wound searching for the thing that had hit him. He had to get it out and fast.

Someone from the corridor bellowed what could have been a command or a warning, Methos wasn't sure. But both Minbari stopped attacking and, as one, looked in absolute terror at the device that was creating all the heat. They tried to turn around, but they never made it to the door.

The warrior who shot him collapsed to the floor in convulsions. Methos staggered backward as the others in the passage began to yell in alarm and two more warriors entered to help carry the fallen one out. The one who'd attacked Valen fainted at the doorway and was unceremoniously dragged away as fast at they could pull him. The last warrior shut the door behind them leaving Methos and Valen alone in the stifling room.

Methos fell to his knees, just trying to staunch his bleeding now. He vaguely registered that Valen was scrambling over to him. Grabbing him by the collar, Valen hauled him around the other side of the device without pause. He leaned Methos against the wall rather than the heater much to Methos' relief.

"Methos! Methos!"

"I think it's fatal."

Valen nodded and pulled Methos' hands away to better see the wound. "Is it like a bullet or more like a dart?"

"Neither really, but it feels as bad as a bullet."

He squeezed his eyes shut and involuntarily bit down on his own tongue as Valen tried to remove the shot. It took a moment for Methos to recognize the voice yelling in pain was not his own, but Valen's. He opened his eyes to see Valen cradling his own hand. His fingers were gashed to the bone.

Valen looked apologetically at him. "It's too sharp for me to pull out."

Methos coughed weakly. "I have to remind you, I revive rather quickly from death by bullets. If this is like that…"

Valen grimaced in sympathy and put more pressure on the wound now that the slice in his hand had healed. It was often the dying part that took so much time. "I'll just have to hold off the Minbari until after you've revived then."

Methos laughed weakly. "They'll notice!"

"Maybe," Valen said. "Or maybe the two who know you were shot are too ill to mention it just yet. What scared off them anyway?"

"Something in this room. This thing perhaps." He gestured at the heater and immediately regretted it. His arm was going numb now.

"Surely they'd have locks, warning signs, or shielding if it was dangerous," Valen pointed out. "If it is bad enough to make them collapse, why aren't we sick?"

The device in the center of the room made a keening noise and then was silent.

Valen shook his head. "I think they turned it off," he said. He stood quickly as they heard the sound of the door opening.

"Humans," an accented female voice could be heard speaking from a distance.

Neither of them answered. Valen stood protectively over Methos, ready to fight whoever next came around the odd pillar despite how futile it was. Methos was left to try slowing the flow of blood on his own.

"Wasn't like we were going to get out of here," Methos rasped. Even if they did find his crew and the ships, he hadn't really expected to succeed. He'd only gone along with it because Valen wanted to at least try to escape.

"Humans," the voice repeated more sternly and haltingly. "Come out. You are safe."

"About time they stopped pretending not to know our language," Valen muttered quietly in disgust. He still didn't answer her.

"Could be one of my crew," gasped Methos. "Forced maybe…"

Valen shook his head. "I know that voice. She's one of the grey robes."

"The war is ended," she announced, speaking louder this time. It was easier to tell now that her voice was coming from within the passageway and not some audio system.

The sweat on Methos' brow felt chilly. He wondered if he were going into shock finally. That usually gave him a good estimate on how much longer he had before dying. Again, his face felt cooler, like a breeze blowing across it... or like they were blowing colder air into the room to reduce the temperature.

Methos had no time to ponder further, as what seemed like dozens of Minbari warriors came around both sides of the device. Methos didn't know if they were all real or if his vision was doubling. Either way he didn't think it mattered. Valen didn't stand a chance.

As his head slid to the floor, Methos caught a glimpse of the warriors efficiently restraining Valen, his token effort at fighting them looked half-hearted even to Methos. He desperately wished he'd bought passage to Centauri Prime when he had the chance.

Methos could only stare at the increasingly blurry Minbari standing over him.

- o0o -

2264

Present day

A Minbari was standing over him.

The extreme cold was making it difficult for Methos to think. He watched blankly as she placed her cloak on him. He wasn't certain, but he seemed to recall something else about a Minbari cloak. The memory came hazily back to him. Seventeen years ago, he'd revived on his ship, shrouded in a white cloak, but this one was brown. He'd died from that crystal bullet and remained dead long enough that they'd returned his body to his ship.

"Where is my crew?" Methos tried to ask, but his voice made only distorted syllables.

Recognizing the difference between the past and present was getting difficult. He knew that his crew were also returned to the ship, that he had watched them painfully regain consciousness as the drugs wore off. They'd angrily reported what they remembered to the government, little though it was as they'd spent the entire time onboard the Minbari war cruiser unconscious. Much to his crew's fury, Earthgov replied that already knew that the Minbari had detained and released them, yet could do nothing about it. Methos was just grateful that he'd revived before they all woke up. He typically disappeared rather than explain his miraculous healing. People tended to keep silent on their own if they lacked proof or additional witnesses of what they'd seen. That was impossible on a crowded ship.

He blinked slowly. This didn't look like his ship. He wondered if he was still captured by the Minbari. That didn't seem correct either, especially as there was now a Human standing over him.

Methos closed his eyes again and heard a voice say, "He's dying."

As all sound faded, Methos wished he'd taken a ship safely back to Earth when he'd had the chance.

- o0o -

Delenn's White Star

"Open channel," Delenn commanded. She smiled as the screen showed her husband's face.

"Hi, sweetheart," he said.

"John," Delenn replied tenderly. "How are you and David?"

"Fine, we're missing you something awful, of course."

"As I do both of you. Is he napping?"

"Yes, the little guy ran at top speed all morning. Aren't kids supposed to learn to walk first and then run?"

Delenn smiled widely and said, "It is good David does not have wings."

"I'll say!" John answered with a laugh. "So, how is the mission going?"

"We are waiting in hyperspace, just in case. It should be over soon."

"Good. Honey," John said, longing evident in his tone. "I really wish you were here. There's another emergency session in less than an hour and I don't mind telling you, I'm dreading it."

"The sooner the Immortal is recovered," she said, "the sooner Earth and Narn will cease threatening each other."

John rubbed the back of his neck, fatigue etched in his face. "Or the poor guy will just confirm it all and it'll be war."

"Neither side wants that, they'll compromise," Delenn said reassuringly. He didn't understand diplomats as well as she did. Not surprising given how much of his diplomatic experience involved warfare. Peacetime politics were different.

"They have backed off a little just knowing that you are personally taking care of it," John said. "I just wish they'd focus on helping the Immortals, not accusing every Human they see. Like it's a crime or something."

Delenn refrained from commenting. When the news broke about the existence of Immortals, they'd both reacted with skepticism. Much of their Minbari and Human staff treated the Interstellar Network News report as something bizarre to laugh or sneer over. Then the calls from the rest of the Alliance members began to pour in demanding an assembly. Reluctantly, John called the meeting and prepared to debate over ISN's report that a Human was being held by Narns or argue whether Immortals existed at all.

The Interstellar Alliance's first order of business was to ask their president if he was an Immortal.

"If that snotty-faced, fluff coming out of his rear…" words to describe that representative were clearly failing John as he ranted, "demands I prove I'm not Immortal one more time, I'll…"

Delenn let him vent his frustration. It was painful for her to hear, but she listened anyway. Some of the representatives insisted that John's return from death at Z'ha'dum was proof of immortality and couldn't be convinced otherwise. It was yet another reminder that John's life had a time limit, a short time at that. She knew injury or illness could take him from her sooner or take her from him. However, thinking about that was of no comfort.

Especially since assassination was more likely. Though the Anla'shok prevented most would be assassins from ever coming close, they had nearly failed to intercept the most recent attempt. Thinking of it compelled her to ask as John fell silent.

"Did they find anything else in the… gift for David?" she asked painfully.

"No. Just that we guessed right. Anyone who put that toy's parts together for David would literally have assembled a bomb, blowing up the whole house. I didn't have the heart to tell Dad and Mom, not after the effort they made to get it for him. I should have realized something was wrong when the package arrived so late…"

"But you did! It fooled the security scans, but not you."

"Which means we might have a traitor in security. Ain't that a happy thought," he growled.

"The Rangers will deal with it. Swiftly," Delenn answered with grim confidence.

"I hope so," John replied before suddenly giving his wife a questioning look. "There is something you aren't telling me about your mission."

For a moment, Delenn stared at the image of John's face on the screen, unable to comprehend what he was referring to. Though she'd done so a few times in the past, Delenn did not care to deliberately conceal anything from John. It surprised her that she had not thought of Valen once during their entire conversation. How had John noticed?

"It must wait until I return," was all Delenn could think to say.

"Not safe over even an encoded channel?"

"I'd rather not take the risk," Delenn replied with a sigh of relief. It was the truth, however she found herself feeling grateful that John gave her a suitable excuse not to speak about Valen. She wasn't ready. John's expression on the screen still looked worried.

A chiming sound saved her from having to speak further on the matter. "Yes," she answered, pressing the reply button on her console.

"Entil'Zha, the mission is completed," a crewman's voice said on an audio channel. "The retrieval team has entered hyperspace."

Delenn saw John's face change from anxious to hopeful as he also heard the crewman's report.

"Move to intercept. I assume they were undetected?" she asked.

"Yes," the crewman replied. "The Narn cruiser received no alarm from the planet and allowed them to depart without suspicion."

"Good. What is the Immortal's condition?"

"Uncertain. He appears to have…" the crewman paused, "…died en route. The healers are standing by for instructions."

"Send them to the docking bay at once," Delenn commanded.

The crewman acknowledged the order and Delenn closed the channel. She looked sadly at John, a longing to be with him and David again making her heart ache.

"Go on," John said. "I love you."

"A'fel E'," Delenn said the same in Adronato.

- o0o -

The Immortal was vaguely familiar to Delenn. If she had seen him before, she could not place when or where. Perhaps he merely shared common characteristics with other Humans she'd met. Other than his nose, which was rather large by Minbari standards and Human so far as she knew, he seemed ordinary. The old saying that "all aliens look alike" proved true more often than she expected in a race with more variation than her own. The people of most races she'd seen all looked the same to her. Yet faced with a group of Humans in identical uniforms, it was easy to differentiate between even those with similar skin, eyes or hair. Meeting them individually was not so simple. Before she went to Babylon 5, Delenn had difficulty recognizing a Human she knew when encountering them in a different setting or without their colleagues. Or worse, she'd confuse them with another similarly featured Human she'd met.

Or perhaps it was the fact that he was currently a corpse that made remembering him problematic.

"I don't understand," Healer Nadrol was saying as he checked the life-signs panel that was resolutely insisting the patient was dead.

Delenn craned her neck to get a better view through the glass at the man on the gurney. When she'd arrived, she was pleased to see that the healers had already washed and dressed him in fresh clothes, unsurprising given the deplorable state the Anla'shok found him in, and they were waiting patiently for him to revive. She watched as they inspected the various Narn-made sensors the retrieval team had pulled from the Immortal's forehead and arms, only to put them aside. As time wore on and the man still remained dead, they scrutinized the sensors again.

"There is nothing in the design of these objects that would cause death," Healer Fahan said in agreement. "And he has long passed the revival timeframe the Watchers gave us."

Delenn remained silent as they worked, not wanting to distract them. They began to examine the corpse with various instruments discarding several with increasing dismay. Although she had every confidence in all the Anla'shok physicians to attend to both Minbari and Humans, she began to wish she'd checked that one of the Human doctors among the Anla'shok were also onboard.

"Here!" Fahan exclaimed and showed her reading to Nadrol. "There are three metal devices imbedded in his chest and abdomen."

"They could be inhibiting his revival," he answered. "There is no external indication of a previous surgery," he murmured in wonder.

Delenn was likewise astonished to see that the Immortal's skin was unmarred, though she'd been told to expect it. She realized that the Immortal's body must have healed around the devices. Which meant they weren't intended to be fatal. Or perhaps it was the now removed sensors that had prevented them from becoming deadly, an anti-escape precaution?

The door behind her opened and one of the Watchers, Corbin Teguese, stepped inside.

"You summoned me?" he asked with a frown.

"Yes," said Delenn, ignoring his sarcasm. "As you can see, we've retrieved Mr. Benson."

Teguese walked to peer through the glass at the healers and the Immortal on the table. "What are they doing?" he asked angrily.

"Surgery," she said holding up a hand to stall Teguese's thunderous expression, "to extract some Narn instruments."

Teguese snorted as the healers began to cut open the man. "You get to autopsy an Immortal," he said. "To help him. Great, just great."

It didn't look good, but there was nothing Delenn could do to rectify it. She suspected any attempt on her part to do so wouldn't succeed in pleasing the Watcher anyway. Instead, she focused on how to deal with the Immortal once he discovered what had been done to him.

"There are three J'Iuns, quite lethal," Fahan said. "A clamp, please," she said, holding out her hand.

Nadrol gave her the tool she asked for. Delenn couldn't quite hear what the healer said next as he leaned closer to his patient. One of the panels began a quiet humming noise. Both of the healers looked over at it in alarm.

The Immortal's arm shot up, knocking the clamp aside hitting Nadrol so hard he fell heavily to the floor and sending the blood covered Narn device flying across the room. Fahan tried to grab the man's flailing arms.

Teguese bolted into the room, fairly leaping over the sprawled healer to reach the table to restrain the now very alive man. It was over too quickly for Delenn to do more than help Nadrol to his feet. A warning alarm came from another medical panel and the Immortal went still. Delenn stared in fascinated horror as the incisions in the Immortal's chest closed themselves and tiny sparks of light skipped across the largest cuts. Teguese muttered curses under his breath as he stormed back out the door.

The healers stood frozen as their careful operation healed completely in a matter of seconds. Then without a word, they both began attaching an anesthetic mask and other apparatus to the man that they'd neglected to use when he was dead.

Delenn returned to the opposite side of the glass where the Watcher was standing looking grim. "How could he revive with his chest cut open?" she asked.

"What?" Teguese said frowning. "Oh, your doctors must not have hit anything vital. So when they pulled that box thing… why is he dead now that it's out anyway?"

Delenn didn't answer. She watched in quiet trepidation as the healers started their operation anew and removed a second metal box with far more caution. The Immortal never moved, but the life-sign panel registered the return of his heartbeat.

"He's dying again," Nadrol said a moment before the panel went silent.

The rest of the surgery went smoothly. As Delenn suspected, the devices were keeping the Immortal dead. Prepared this time, the healers removed all their instruments before pulling the third box from his chest. They hastily cleaned away the last of the blood and backed to a safe distance. Perhaps it was a result of the anesthesia that he did not return to life and consciousness in mid-regeneration this time. It was disturbing and mesmerizing to watch every trace of the operation vanish. The Immortal drew a deep shuddering breath a millisecond after the medical screen registered that he was alive.

Delenn turned to ask Teguese to reassure the Immortal, but never voiced her request. The Watcher was gone and she'd never noticed his leaving. She didn't have time to be angry that he'd left three Minbari to deal with what was certainly a very traumatized man. Teguese's lack of consideration would have to wait.

Projecting as much confidence and tranquility as she could muster, Delenn walked back into the room. The Immortal was sitting up now and looking understandably disoriented.

"Greetings, Mr. Benson," she said, bowing politely. "Please do not be alarmed. I am Entil'Zha Delenn, leader of the Rangers. We have rescued you."

"I see," Benson answered in a hoarse voice.

"The Watchers requested our assistance in freeing you."

"That so?" he asked sounding startled.

"Yes, it is so."

"Watchers?"

"Yes. Earth's Interstellar Network News reported the existence of Immortals some days ago," said Delenn as gently as she could.

"You don't say?"

"I do say," she corrected him, frowning slightly.

"Just an expression. Sorry," he mumbled. "I'm really hoping I'll wake up from this nightmare soon."

Benson looked over at the two healers standing against the wall and then down at the Minbari trousers they'd dressed him in before doing surgery. His eyes moved to the tray holding the Narn contraptions and he rubbed his bare chest with one hand.

"We mean you no harm," Delenn said quickly.

"I understand," Benson said suddenly. "You… thanks for getting that stuff out of me."

He leaned forward and placed his head in his hands. Delenn waited patiently as he collected himself, unsure if he was about to scream or weep. He did neither and when he sat up again the look of terror on his face was gone. For a moment he met her eyes and Delenn saw it, the agelessness in him. She never thought to encounter its like again after the departure of the First Ones. She'd seen the same in Kosh, Lorien, and… Sinclair. Valen.

Then the look was gone as though he'd dropped a mask over his eyes.

"You said something about Watchers?" he asked.

"Yes," Delenn replied, his question startling her out of her musing. "Four are aboard, though I understand that their organization will not interact with your kind."

Benson laughed with a deep echoing sound. "They're playing hide and seek now that they've gotten you to _interfere_ for them, eh?"

Delenn wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. Benson didn't give her a chance. He stood up and noticing a matching Minbari shirt folded at the foot of the table and soft slip-on shoes, he pulled them on.

"Let's pay the Watchers a little visit, shall we?"

Delenn wavered between respecting the Watchers' wish to avoid direct contact with the Immortals and allowing the Immortal to solve her problem for her. While the Anla'shok were ideally suited to locating and rescuing Immortals from those who would harm them, convincing the Immortals that they weren't exchanging one prison for another was a potential nightmare. It was a relief that Benson appeared to understand and accept their help, yet she caught a lingering glimmer of wariness in his manner. If speaking with the Watchers could prevent an altercation, Delenn would cheerfully inconvenience the Watchers.

"Very well," Delenn said. If anything, Benson looked even more amused.

- o0o -

Things were not going well.

As Delenn stood listening to the Watcher and Immortal argue, she could not help picturing a Temsha'we attacking its own reflection in a window, unaware it was being stalked by a predator. She wasn't entirely sure which of the images the two men before her represented. Corbin Teguese was irate that Delenn told the Immortal that Watchers were aboard. To her astonishment, he had no compunction in trying to take advantage of the situation to ask Pierce Benson to assist with locating other missing Immortals.

For a moment, Delenn thought that these troublesome Humans would finally help each other.

"Nope," said Benson with a disturbing smile.

"Lives are at stake here!" Teguese exclaimed.

"Sorry, can't help."

"What if one of your old students is being dissected as we speak?"

"Its not like I have, oh… some grand network of spies," Benson said airily describing the Watchers organization, "reporting all the other Immortals' movements to me. I wouldn't know where to look."

"What if it were Valen? Could you just walk away?"

"He's a big boy," Benson said calmly.

Delenn's first reaction was to think it rather insolent of Benson to refer to Valen as a 'boy.' This was quickly followed by the realization that the Watcher had implied that Valen was once Benson's student. She was appalled by the suggestion that Valen would ever tolerate, much less choose, to learn from this callous man.

"Why?" Benson asked after studying their reactions. "Is he in danger?"

"He may or may not be," Delenn answered for Teguese before he could speak. "Though we have no reason to believe he has been captured at this time, that could change under these circumstances."

"Well," Benson said slowly, making Delenn believe the Immortal was actually considering it. "Valen can look after himself," he finally answered, dashing Delenn's hopes.

"Would you attempt to rescue him if he couldn't?" Delenn asked.

"And get captured again for my trouble? No."

"Could you provide information of places Valen might go that the Watchers are unaware of?" she asked.

"I'd never give away another Immortal's bolt hole."

Delenn wasn't sure what that phrase meant, but she guessed it might be a reference to a hiding place.

"We rescued you!" Teguese pointed out, as if that was reason enough.

"The Rangers did, not you," Benson said pleasantly.

The correction didn't slow Teguese down. "You owe them."

"As I recall," Benson said with a nod in Delenn's direction, "The Rangers live to serve, not extract payment."

"It's the decent thing to do," Teguese snapped.

A look of sudden understanding spread across Benson's face and he smirked. "You aren't my Watcher," he stated.

"No, I'm not. How'd -?"

"My Watcher wouldn't expect me to adhere to modern sensibilities."

"What? Like honor, respect, and gratitude?"

Benson shrugged his shoulders and said, "I'm too old fashioned."

"Perhaps," Delenn interrupted, frowning, "this conversation should continue another time."

Delenn's tone was more of an order than a suggestion. She saw Benson's demeanor become serious, almost calculating, as he looked at her.

"Very well," he acknowledged. "Just one more thing." He looked back at the Watcher and asked, "Why are you here?"

"Because there is a galaxy wide manhunt for Immortals going on!"

"No," Benson shook his head. "Why are you here?"

"To find Valen," said Teguese, his anger changing to confusion.

"He's your assignment, then? Hmm, well that wasn't entirely what I meant," Benson said shaking his head. "You don't know," he stated dismissively.

"Don't know what?" Teguese demanded.

Delenn stared at the Immortal, vaguely aware that Teguese was sputtering in exasperation. Benson turned and left the sitting room without another word to the Watcher. She raised her chin determinedly and followed him out into the corridor.

"Have you no compassion for your people?" Delenn exclaimed angrily.

"Sure, I care," he said sadly. "There's just nothing I can do about it."

"Mr. Teguese believes otherwise."

"He's idealistic and thinks Immortals should be champions."

"Shouldn't they?" Delenn countered. "What good is it to live so long doing nothing?"

"It worked for the Vorlons," he said flippantly before becoming serious. "So, what are you going to do with me?"

"You are a honored guest. If you'd like, we can transport you to Babylon 5 or stop at any planet along our journey. As I was saying when you revived, the Rangers and the Minbari Federation are working with Earth to stop aliens from harming Immortals. We will neither study nor detain you. Nor will we pry information from you of how you are immortal."

"Taking the subtle route," he said cynically. "You wouldn't object if an Immortal told you everything or offered themselves up for examination. What is your interest in Valen anyway?"

"He is a personal friend and my people owe him a debt of gratitude."

Benson crossed his arms and leaned against a wall. "Care to elaborate? I haven't kept up with my old friend lately."

"Would you reconsider aiding us if I did?"

"I might."

It was not a promise, but it would have to do Delenn decided. She suspected only something that appealed to his self-interest would sway him. Repeating the Watcher's sentiments would surely be a wasted effort.

"It is possible that there is an Immortal Minbari."

Benson raised one eyebrow, but made no comment.

"Valen, who was calling himself Sinclair at the time, was appointed ambassador to Minbar a few years ago. He took leadership of the Rangers to fight the Shadows and then became partly Minbari."

"Really?" he asked lazily, unconvinced. "How'd he do that?"

"The same way I became partly Human."

He didn't look like he entirely believed that his friend would do such a thing. "And he didn't go public like you did because…?" he said and paused waiting for the explanation.

"It was necessary that the Shadows not know, otherwise we would not have won the war."

"The Shadows are gone now."

"Yes. However, we've received no messages from Valen."

"Seems to me he doesn't want to be found."

Delenn considered the wisdom of not telling this man the whole truth. He was already skeptical that Valen was now part Minbari. She feared he'd decide it was all a fabrication if she also told him that Valen traveled a thousand years into the past. It was unnecessary information that wouldn't help in finding Valen now. Likewise, she could not produce sufficient proof for either assertion at this moment.

"Have you asked Catherine?" Benson asked suddenly.

"Catherine? Catherine Sakai?"

"Short, black hair, Chinese eyes, great pilot, head over heels in love with Valen?" he described.

"Yes, that is her," Delenn answered in bewilderment.

"They're always running into each other. Have you asked her where he might be?"

"Anla'shok Sakai was lost in an accident several months before Valen underwent the transformation," Delenn said, deliberately neglecting to mention that Catherine fell through a time distortion and was likely forever lost in time or long dead.

Benson's eyebrows shot up. "She didn't mention that when we had lunch last week. Catherine is an Immortal."

- o0o -

End Chapter Two

Preview of Chapter Three:

"You don't look surprised, or shocked for that matter," said Valen.

"Over your appearance? No," answered Methos. "Baldness has been popular worldwide many times, though usually as a defense against parasites. Even wearing antlers as a headdress is still trendy in certain modern ceremonies. Though I expect changing one's genetics to grow them yourself is a long way from becoming fashionable."


	3. Hunters

Title: Valen's Return 

Author: Julie the Tall Terror

Guest author of the final scene of this chapter: Marianne

Summary: The galaxy learns that some Humans are Immortal. While greedy aliens are after the secret to immortality, the Minbari and Watchers search for a particular Immortal, Valen. Babylon 5/Highlander crossover.

Setting: 2264. The new Interstellar Alliance is still very shaky.

Babylon 5 characters: Valen (Sinclair), Delenn, Catherine, Sheridan, Garibaldi, possibly more.

Highlander the Series characters: Methos, the Watcher organization, possibly more.

You do NOT need to know anything about Highlander: the Series to understand this story. If you do, just enjoy the familiar characters.

Big thanks to John Hightower for creating the Minbari Dictionary at Jumpnow.de and my beta readers, Sarah t and Marianne Todd. Marianne also wrote the last scene of this part.

Chapter Three

Hunters

_"It is good to know what your people are thinking and saying about my people… And, _

_I often learn things about my own world before I'm told what 'I need to know and no more.'"_

-- Delenn while buying an Earth newspaper, Babylon 5: "Divided Loyalties"

- o0o -

Delenn's White Star

"I appreciate the rescue and this meal," Methos said as he sat down at the low table. It never hurt to show gratitude even when he didn't recognize most of the food set before him. The table didn't have chairs, but thin legless cushions with supporting backrests. Next to his full plate were two sets of utensils a pair of smooth short sticks that looked very similar to chopsticks and a very small two-pronged fork. He mimicked Delenn and chose the sticks. It had been at least a day since he'd eaten, so he'd happily accepted her invitation to dinner. "But I'd just as soon be on my way. The nearest commercial hub, station, planet, whatever, if you please?"

"Certainly, Mr. Benson," said Delenn. "If there is anything else the Rangers can do to help your people, do not hesitate to ask. Justice will be done."

"Justice," he said absently while watching the Minbari server fill his glass and wondered how they managed not to knock over anything with those long sleeves.

"I do not wish to pry into what I am sure is a painful subject, however if there is anything you can tell me about your captors that could lead to their arrest…?"

"No point," said Methos, bluntly and without the evidence of emotional trauma that Delenn was obviously expecting from the way she asked the question. "The Narns who mugged me were after money. I don't know as much Narnish as I'd like, but I do know they were shocked when I regenerated. They tried to sell me to a middleman, middle-Narn," he corrected himself, "who then killed them upon completing the deal. Your Rangers took out that guy's operation, so there isn't anyone left alive to exact justice on."

"The person or persons who meant to purchase you, perhaps," Delenn pointed out.

"Even if he had a client already lined up and you could prove it, I know it wouldn't bring much of a conviction," he said in between bites of a squishy green food. "Anyone that powerful can weasel out."

"The act of putting them on trial might deter others from preying on Immortals."

Methos waited until the server left the room before answering. "I won't testify in a trial, not even a closed one. Everyone would find out I'm Immortal."

"Mr. Benson, everyone already knows," Delenn said gently. "Interstellar Network News reported your kidnapping, your picture and your Immortality. That is _how_ we all learned about Immortals."

It took effort for Methos to comprehend what she said. It was his worst nightmare come true. He'd always hated the press and knew he'd have to scour every vid and written report to find out how much damage they'd done. Though it appeared that they didn't know his real name otherwise Delenn wouldn't be using his alias, Benson. If other Immortals knew he was Methos, the oldest living Immortal, it'd be his death. A stream of sycophantic Immortals would crowd his door looking for wisdom and the Immortals who wanted to kill him for his power would find him. It didn't give Methos any comfort as he considered cynically that it would only require a few enterprising Watchers or old acquaintances to figure it out given time. He was dead, unless…

"Well, in that case, I wonder if I could trespass on your hospitality a little longer?"

"Of course," said Delenn kindly.

"Perhaps I could help you with Catherine?" Methos said, a plan forming in his mind. If he could seem helpful without actually being so, then maybe these people would leave Valen and other Immortals be. They might even have the resources to repair the media exposure mess and replace a little of his obscurity.

"That would be most helpful," said Delenn. "I did not become acquainted with Anla'shok Sakai on Babylon 5 as she was not a member of station personnel. I'm sure she will appreciate the call coming from a friend."

"Instead of from the new leader of the organization she's had no choice but to abandon? Though in her defense, everyone else gets to quit when they die."

- o0o -

"Good morning," Methos said cheerfully to the image of the beautiful woman with delicate Asian features on the communication screen. "Or afternoon, maybe evening? Not the middle of the night, I hope?"

"It is morning actually," replied Catherine, giving him a crooked smile. "I don't recall telling you how to contact me."

"You didn't. The Rangers located you. You didn't tell me your current alias or what job you have either, but all they needed was where and when I last saw you. Clever bunch."

"That they are," she said with a hint of pride before sternly demanding, "What's going on?"

"I'm calling on behalf of Entil'Zha Delenn," he said concisely and deliberately glanced sideways at Delenn, who was standing just out of range, to hint to Catherine that their conversation wasn't private. Delenn noticed and narrowed her eyes at him, but he ignored her. "She is searching for your husband."

"I see," she said without emotion or expression.

"And," Methos answered, drawing out the word. "She would like you to tell her where he is."

"I don't know. I haven't seen him in years."

It was exactly the response he wanted and expected, since Valen obviously didn't want to be found. What he didn't anticipate was the ring of truth in her words. Valen and Catherine usually knew where the other was, either to better avoid each other or because they were together. He decided it wasn't any of his business and that he should just be grateful that this might be enough to dissuade Delenn from pestering Valen.

"Well," he finally said with a polite smile. "I'll let her know you can't help. Have a nice day."

"Wait," Delenn's voice called out behind him.

Methos grimaced. He knew Delenn could simply call Catherine again, but he still had to restrain himself from closing the channel. He'd let her talk him into making the call because he hoped he could avoid this. He stepped away from the console wondering why he'd gotten involved at all.

Delenn took his place and said, "Anla'shok Sakai, please forgive the intrusion into your privacy, but I must ask for your help."

"Entil'Zha Delenn," Catherine replied. Clearly, she could not ignore the emphasis on her Ranger title. "I'm sorry, but I don't know where he is."

"Is there is any place he might go? Please, he could be in grave danger, as could you."

Catherine sighed audibly. "I will be if anyone is intercepting this. I can't guarantee that this channel is secure on my end."

"I'll speak cautiously," said Delenn. "You were reunited after the Great War, weren't you? You know what he did and what he means to us."

Methos assumed Delenn was referring to the recent Shadow War, though in his opinion it wasn't great so much as insane, short and thankfully far from Earth.

"Yes," Catherine confirmed. "Which is why I believe neither he, nor I for that matter, ought to be dragged away from anonymity."

"I have no desire to -"

"But it'll happen all the same. It might already be happening since you now know to look for him. Minbari are the biggest gossips in the galaxy!"

That was news to Methos, though he was more than a little amused to see that Delenn was acutely embarrassed. Minbari appeared to operate with such secrecy and their penchant was well known for obeying their superiors without question and with little information. He realized that their attitude of servitude was much like that of, well, servants. He'd seen many a household where the employers would be shocked to discover how much the domestic staff knew about them. In times past, Methos himself had often found it easy to accept the words 'only what you need to know' from a superior when there were rumormongers ready to supply all the details.

"If you feel so strongly that will be the result," Delenn conceded, "then is it not wise to find and warn him? All I ask is to protect him."

"They are only after Humans."

Methos raised one eyebrow as Catherine confirmed what Delenn had told him. Valen didn't appear Human anymore.

"It is not implausible to suggest that Earth's files on him might, as you say, 'fall into the wrong hands,'" said Delenn. "While other races may not recognize him, there are many Minbari and Humans who would. Not only those who know the truth as we do, but others whose suspicions will lead them to the correct conclusion."

"It'd be a needle in a haystack search." Catherine shook her head and then stopped. Her eyes widened as some new thought occurred to her and a look of abject horror spread across her face. Delenn leaned forward in concern, but was silent. Methos wondered if he should say something.

"Do the-" Catherine began hesitantly, "…do the warrior caste leaders know the truth?"

"Those on the Grey Council do. The rest shouldn't, but I can't promise it."

Catherine put her face down on her hands a moment before looking back up. "I haven't seen him for a very long time, but I'm certain he still owns our old house on… Planet X. Mr. Garibaldi will understand what I mean." And with that, the screen went blank.

If that explanation didn't completely bamboozle anyone who might be eavesdropping, Methos didn't know what would. He suspected that Catherine would immediately proceed to disappear. He'd do the same in her situation… if he could.

"Planet X," said Delenn thoughtfully. "One of Mr. Garibaldi's enigmatic references I suppose."

- o0o -

"_Planet X?_" Michael Garibaldi exclaimed over the communications channel from Mars. "As in the old Duck Dodgers cartoons? Are you kidding me?"

Delenn was unperturbed. "Ms. Sakai appeared certain that you would understand."

"I know those shows like the back of my hand and I'll watch them again anyway, but I can't think of a thing in them that would give me a clue of where Jeff is." Garibaldi shook his head before saying in a rush, "He's really one of them? Guess I shouldn't be surprised, Jeff's so serious. All that solemn spiritual stuff and always trying to make things fair, you know? Why the hell hasn't he called any of us anyway? We're his friends!"

"Mr. Garibaldi," Delenn interrupted as his voice began to grow louder with frustration. "I'm sure that he has a good reason."

"Something unnecessarily noble, like to protect us."

"Quite possibly."

"Just great. Let me get back to you," Garibaldi said in an annoyed voice. "He better really be in trouble because if he's not when I find him . . . he will be."

- o0o -

Hersph Colony, Jaris Empire

Valen knew before he opened his eyes that he was in trouble.

The light was mercifully dim as the room around him came into focus. The first thing he noticed was the piece of metal imbedded in his chest that was making breathing difficult. The second was the odd realization that he wasn't in pain. Normally that wasn't a good sign, however in this case it was useful since pain always made it harder to remove things like daggers, arrows and the occasional bit of shrapnel. He reached up to pull the thing out.

Or at least he tried to. His arm didn't move. Neither did anything else below his neck. This was bad. He was going to slowly bleed to death, his employees were likely to find him and then send his body to be prepared for burial. He had yet to revive in front of a Minbari mortician and had no interest in doing so now.

"Oh, dear. You weren't supposed to wake," said a slow voice behind him in the worker caste dialect

Valen tried to lift his head to see who was talking, but couldn't crane it far enough to see the speaker. "Can you remove this metal?" he asked.

"No, no. You'd die and I'm not ready."

There was the sound of hurried activity and something on wheels behind his head just out of sight.

"Are you a healer?"

"No. Don't worry all will be well. You aren't in pain, are you?" asked the stranger.

"I can't feel a thing."

"Oh, good. Let me know if you do feel pain and I'll give you more analgesics."

"You gave me a painkiller?"

"Of course. It wouldn't do for you to suffer."

"Very kind of you. Will a healer or doctor be here soon?"

"Soon, soon. What is your name by the way?"

"Shaernur of the Fi'irilmer Guild," Valen said giving his current alias.

"And your occupation is…?"

"Pilot. Transporting cargo. This is awkward, could you move to where I can see you?"

"I'm very sorry, but I have to stay by the machine. So, do you travel far for a member of the worker caste? Have you seen many worlds?"

"Yes, I… Wait a minute, you aren't Minbari."

"Calm down, calm down. The painkiller is confusing you."

"No, it isn't. What is your name?"

"Well, its… its," the stranger stuttered.

"You can't think of a Minbari name, can you?"

There was a pause before he said, "No. I do apologize, but I'd rather not tell you my name."

"What race are you then?"

The stranger remained silent this time rather than try to lie.

Valen swore with a good deal of exasperation in English and said, "You're a Soul Hunter."

"Could you repeat that in Fik, please?" the Soul Hunter asked in the worker dialect. "I can only understand one language at a time."

"You are Sha'gh Toth."

"I am. You are unusually calm about this. Most Minbari treat us like thieves. Terrified of us."

The Soul Hunter finally walked into view and sat down next to Valen. He looked much the same as the few Soul Hunters that Valen had seen before. A hairless skull with what looked similar to an amber stone embedded in the center of his brow, wide pale eyes and mottled skin that always reminded him of an apple cinnamon Danish pastry. Minbari records on Soul Hunters, while extensive, were rather incoherent. An understandable side effect given how greatly the Minbari feared them. Valen rarely saw Soul Hunters and the only time he'd had a conversation with one was the first time he encountered the species on Babylon 5.

"I'm not afraid of you," said Valen tiredly.

"Wonderful! Your people are the most difficult of all to preserve, you know, and I don't have any Minbari souls in my collection. Usually only the most experienced hunters dare… but I just happened to be on this world and I sensed that it was a Minbari dying. The opportunity –!"

"You won't be collecting my soul today. I'm not truly dying."

"Oh, but you are. I can feel it and we are never wrong."

"My body will stop for a time, but then I'll heal."

"You are mistaken. Your injuries are beyond hope of survival."

Valen sighed. "You'll see soon enough. Your machine won't work because my soul won't be leaving."

"All souls leave the body behind."

"Not mine, not this way. I'm Immortal."

"Only Humans are Immortal "

"Is that so?" he said and wondered if that was true or if it was just what the Soul Hunter thought. "It's commonly assumed that _your_ people can't be killed. That you live forever."

"We encourage that belief. We do live for a very long time. We are never ill and our injuries always heal. It is easy for others to assume we are immortal, but we all die of old age."

"Always heal?"

"Yes."

It confirmed much of what Valen already knew or at least suspected about the Soul Hunters. The first one to visit Babylon 5 ended up in Medlab gravely wounded. According to Dr. Franklin, he shouldn't have survived. Nor should he have healed within a day. It wasn't as dramatic as an Immortal's recovery, but even so, it was much quicker than any other race Valen had seen.

The implications made him curious to know if Soul Hunters recovered gradually from all damage without actually dying from it. While for his people any non-lethal wound would heal in seconds or minutes, the fatal ones were just fatal for a little while. Not quite the same, but similar enough to make him wonder.

"You _all_ die of old age? What if the ship you are in explodes?" he asked.

"No race can destroy our ships."

"Bet the Vorlons could have."

"Perhaps."

"Didn't they object when your people tried to take their souls?"

"There was no need to preserve the souls of ancient races that have now left this galaxy. They are different."

"Lucky for them," Valen said sarcastically. It figured that the First Ones, Shadows and Vorlons didn't have to deal with the Soul Hunters knocking on their doors. Though the technology gap did give the Soul Hunters the perfect excuse not to try.

"How are they different?"

"They are not in peril. Their greatness is not lost when they die. I don't quite know how to explain it to an outsider."

"I think I understand," said Valen as he thought about the significance Immortals placed on their Quickening, their power that was released after their true death, being taken by another. Granted it usually involved fighting to stop another person intent on stealing it from you by cutting off your head. However, even Immortals who wished to commit suicide took great care to do so near another Immortal so that their Quickening would not be lost. A destructive superstition in his opinion, he'd never gained anything useful from taking a Quickening.

"So, how long have your people known that some Humans are Immortal? I presume, you didn't find out from the recent news."

"A very long time. I haven't met one myself, but my teacher said that it feels different when they die, temporarily or permanently. It isn't quite the same."

"Well, pay attention. You are about… to find… out..."

And with that, Valen died.

He never felt anything while he was dead, or if he did he never remembered it. It wasn't pleasant, usually because it followed some violent trauma. One moment the world was going dark, the next it was getting brighter. He had no sense of how long he was dead, but the real downside this time was that dying essentially cleared his system of the painkiller and whatever drug the Soul Hunter had given him to keep him immobile. After the excruciating first breath and a good deal of blinking to clear his watering eyes, Valen sat up to find the shrapnel no longer in his chest and his wounds were glimmering faintly as they healed.

"This is so disappointing," said the Soul Hunter, who truly looked dejected. He was backed against the wall staring at Valen nervously.

Valen could think of a number of replies to that, but settled on simply saying, "A word of warning… Soul Hunters are not welcome around here. I suggest you leave as soon as possible."

"I must go in any case. Your soul broke my machine."

Valen stood and looked over at the odd contraption of crystal and metal. The only other time he'd seen one of these it was brightly lit and visibly dragging an unwilling soul into a glass globe. This machine was dark, smoking, and the molten remains of the globe were dripping onto the floor. No wonder the Soul Hunters didn't try to steal Immortals' souls. It explained why he'd never heard of them on Earth and why the only Immortal he'd found later that had heard of them could only say that she'd been told their souls were safe from Soul Hunters. Yet, even she didn't know _why _they couldn't be stolen.

"I certainly can't apologize for that. I did warn you it wouldn't work." Valen waited tensely for his reaction. He didn't want to be thrown around by an enraged Soul Hunter again.

"Yes, you did," the Soul Hunter said petulantly and turned to hunch over his ruined machine.

Valen backed carefully away to the door of this place and took the only wise option. He ran.

- o0o -

Delenn's White Star

"Nothing in the cartoons," Garibaldi's image said over a secure channel.

Methos leaned nonchalantly against the console where Delenn was sitting. The Watchers were assembled on the other side of the room as if being any closer to him would somehow contaminate them.

"'X' can mean an unknown or mark a spot," Garibaldi continued, "but it also is an old way of spelling the number ten. So, I checked Minbar's tenth planet, but it's uninhabitable without stations or even moons. Then I pulled up info on the tenth planet of every system belonging to Minbar or Earth, but most of those don't have that many planets or again they aren't habitable. The best I found were two that had listening posts. I don't think either of those is it because there are no _houses_. The computer's crunching data for references, but that'll take a while. Any ideas at your end?"

"A tenth planet? As in the mythical tenth planet?" asked Methos. "The one responsible for knocking over Uranus and giving it and Neptune weird orbits? Scientists of the modern era spent over a century hunting for it, until the first space probes to leave our system proved it wasn't there."

"The Sumerians wrote about a tenth planet six thousand years ago," Aria spoke up from across the room.

"Is that so?" Methos said gleefully, pointing at Aria. "_You_ are my Watcher."

Aria flushed in embarrassment and said, "I just know that story and that the scientists got the idea from Sumerian tablets. That's all. I don't suppose you know anything about those?"

Methos gave her a smug smile. "I studied ancient cultures a bit while at university, yes," he said.

"This is all very interesting, but unless a bunch of ancient dead guys scratched some coordinates on a wall somewhere…" Garibaldi interrupted.

"Nibiru," said Methos. "That's what the Sumerians called the tenth planet."

Garibaldi shrugged. "Worth a try," he agreed and then said, "Computer, search for a Minbari planet named Nibiru."

His eyebrows shot up quickly. "Jackpot!" Garibaldi said and began reading aloud to them. "Nibiru belongs to the worker caste and it's the second planet in its system, not tenth. Ha!"

Delenn was pulling up her own information about the planet on another screen and said, "There is a refueling station orbiting it. It's on the edge of Minbari space."

"Great. Easy for you to get to and a small population to search," replied Garibaldi. "Its mostly desert. Won't that be fun… wait a minute, the only town is on the southern pole?"

"The planet itself is barely habitable."

He frowned and said, "If I'm doing the math right, its equator doesn't get any hotter than the Sahara Desert on Earth."

"Then your Sahara is too hot for Minbari, like most of Nibiru."

"What do you mean by too hot?"

"Minbari do not cope with heat as well as Humans," Delenn reluctantly admitted.

"Of course!" Methos exclaimed suddenly and slapped a hand on his knee. "I once saw some Minbari faint for what seemed like no reason at all. I was sweating buckets myself, but it wasn't that bad."

"My people do not perspire on demand, therefore we can't tolerate most of Earth's summer temperatures," explained Delenn. "When did you see a Minbari faint?"

Methos wasn't about to answer the question of _when_. Neither Delenn nor the eagerly listening Watchers needed to know that seventeen years ago he and Valen were captives on a Minbari war cruiser. However, he couldn't resist dangling a part of truth in front of them.

"On a ship," he answered with a cryptic smile.

- o0o -

Hersph Colony, Jaris Empire

"Shaernur!"

Valen paused as he heard his current name. He turned back to see three Minbari weaving around the unsavory denizens of this run down part of the city. They were holding a few tools as makeshift weapons and looked badly frightened. They did not know him well, given that they were merchants and he only saw him when he arrived to pick up cargo. Yet here they were ready to defend him despite that none of them knew how to fight.

They fairly bellowed at him, in a rush, all at once, in their relief.

"We saw the Sha'gh Toth take you–"

"You are bleeding!"

" – thought you were dead –"

"I am not bleeding," he reassured them. "What exactly happened?"

"After the explosion –"

"Sabotage, for certain –"

" – we followed you to help the injured."

"The floor collapsed under you."

"You were hurt."

"We were going to jump down –"

"But there was a dense smoke so we couldn't see what we would land on if we did."

" – and then the Sha'gh Toth came and carried you away!"

"As you can see, I am not wounded," said Valen firmly. "The Soul Hunter was mistaken, it isn't my day to die."

They accepted his statement without question or expression for that matter. As they led him to the safer streets, he couldn't help but worry. Their account of what happened was correct, but they hadn't recounted any critical details about how he was hurt. It was annoying, but if he asked them to clarify what they had seen it might jeopardize his secret.

Good thing he'd finished this cargo run and had planned to head home tomorrow anyway. But just in case, he decided to leave this planet the moment he got back to his ship. Home was just two jumps away.

- o0o -

Nibiru

Delenn went alone.

She would not permit anyone else to approach the house they determined was Valen's home. The Watchers took it well, until she informed them that they could not use their equipment to spy from a distance. The Anla'shok were happy to restrain them if necessary. She knew it was more endurable for them if the Watchers likewise were not allowed the privilege of accompanying her to meet Valen. Oddly enough, the Immortal was the only person on her ship who was completely uninterested. He'd made no request to see his old friend.

The house was high on the side of a cliff, overlooking a beautiful view of the desert valley below. It was a remote spot and not easy to see, for the building was made of the same coarse rocks surrounding it. The outer walls were rounded to match the curve of the cliff side. Delenn wondered why Valen went to such lengths to build a home all but undetectable from the air on a sparsely populated planet.

She set her flyer down on what the Anla'shok determined was likely an unmarked landing pad on a wide shelf near the top of the towering rock. There was a hanger of sorts, part cave, part overhanging ledge, within the stone that was concealing another flyer. She left her ship on the pad and stepped out onto the rock. While the dry wind was no trouble for her small ship, it burned her skin. She covered her face with the cowl of her cloak and was glad there was no dust in the air to sting her. In fact, what little sand did find its way between the rocks was held tightly by bits of vegetation.

At first she was at a loss over how to reach the house. The hanger had no internal passageways and her own ship's sensors had told her that the other flyer was empty. After climbing over a few boulders toward the ledge opposite the hanger, she found a smooth path that wound between the larger stones. It did not go to the edge of the cliff, but sloped downward into a crevice with stairs. Each step was carved at such an angle that even from the top of the stairs they almost looked natural. It was a comfortable descent away from the wind and it ended sooner than she expected. Around the next corner, she found herself looking out at a garden terrace mostly hidden in the shadow of the ledge above.

There he was, sitting on a low bench in the shade of a delicate tree. She walked slowly toward him, her gentle footsteps sounding overly loud to her ears. He turned his head to look at her and he smiled expectantly. She had hoped he was Immortal, but hadn't truly believed it until that moment. Valen was exactly how she'd imagined he'd look as a Minbari, with the exception of his age. Instead of the rapidly aged man he'd been when he'd left with Babylon 4, he appeared no older than the day she'd first met him in the war. The detrimental effects of time travel were clearly no match for Immortal healing.

"Hello, old friend," she said softly and sat beside him on the bench.

"I saw your flyer go by. It's good to see you again, Delenn."

"Do you live up here alone?" she asked hesitantly. She struggled to think of him as the Human she remembered, a man searching for a purpose. All she could see now was the great Minbari she'd revered her entire life. It was making it difficult for her to think of what to say.

He nodded. "I don't mind and before you ask, I'm not concerned about injuring myself. But you already know that, otherwise you wouldn't have found me."

"Yes, I am aware of Immortals."

"So is the rest of the galaxy now. How long have you known?"

"Only a matter of days. Humans are replacing the First Ones far sooner than I believed possible."

He laughed. "If you met the oldest living Human, you wouldn't think that. However, I am surprised that you didn't discover Immortals sooner, if not during the war, then at least when my people began joining the Anla'shok. There were times on Babylon 5 that I was almost certain you knew."

"No," she said. "I never suspected. Did anyone else know what you were?"

"A few. Kosh, of course. The Vorlons and Shadows treated us like prized goldfish," he answered and then frowned. "I think that Soul Hunter knew as well."

"Sha'gh Toth!" she whispered in revulsion.

"Not the one that attacked you, his brother," he said thoughtfully. "There was something in his manner... I think he knew. Delenn?" He leaned closer to her, concerned. "Relax, they can't steal our souls."

Panic was still coursing through her. "Are you certain? How can you know?"

"I'm sure. I'd never seen nor heard about Soul Hunters before they came to Babylon 5. Immortals don't need 'preservation.'"

"But you can die if your head is cut off."

"Yes, but that isn't likely… Please, calm down…"

However, she could not calm down. She remembered vividly the many threats Valen faced on Babylon 5 despite that it was a time of peace. She could reconcile the knowledge that he'd been in danger often in past wartimes because he was destined to survive them and therefore he was never at risk. Now it frightened her to realize that he was always a warrior, even in peacetime. What was to stop him from choosing to fight when he saw a need? The Interstellar Alliance was still in its infancy and many races were not members. New conflicts could arise at any time and a bomb or exploding ship would kill even an Immortal. The Watcher files she'd read confirmed that.

"My ship is waiting in orbit. I'll send aides to collect your belongings at once." She pulled out her communicator, only to be stopped by his hand.

"I'm not leaving. You don't need me."

Delenn was aghast. She was ready to follow him into the greatest of perils and knew the rest of Minbar would also. She was not prepared to find that Valen was uninterested in leading anyone.

"What do you mean 'we don't need you'?" she exclaimed. "The warriors were only partially mollified by Neroon's sacrifice. Their honor was restored, however the repercussions of the civil war are still being felt and I fear that some – on both sides – are waiting for an opportunity for revenge. Minbar cannot help the Interstellar Alliance maintain stability if we descend into chaos!"

"Creating order is never easy. Did you know that there were five attempts on my life after I formed the Grey Council? No, of course you don't. Your ancestors rewrote or erased the more unpleasant moments of their history." He held up his hand to count on his fingers and said, "Twice by the warriors and once by a priest. Their castes didn't want to share power with each other, much less equally with the workers. Then some workers – thieves – tried to stop me from limiting their wealth. I never did learn who was responsible for the fifth attempt."

"They tried to kill you?" whispered Delenn in disbelief.

"I call them attempts, but in reality two of them were successful murders. Keeping that under wraps wasn't easy, at least none of the assassins were aware I was part alien. If I return now, there will be a waiting list of Minbari and Humans who will want me dead for that alone."

"Why are you saying this? Fear for your own life has never stopped you before and the rest of Minbar would die to protect you."

"I imposed radical and unpopular changes on Minbar a thousand years ago," Valen explained. "You can't see it yourself because it's the only way of life you know. Neroon once told me I talked like a Minbari, but in reality it is you who speak like me now."

"I see. You believe that your solutions to our problems would cause more strife at this time. However, I know that it would be worth it in the end."

"I'd rather make it easier on you, if I can. And on myself, I admit."

"I understand, but so much of your work is unfinished."

"True, but don't you think I deserve a retirement?"

"Retirement?"

"Yes," he said. "As in 'no responsibility.' No more trying to make alien governments play nicely together. Or deal with lunatic caste elders, for that matter. I finally have a chance to buy ridiculously expensive items, splurge on exotic vacations and spend the day soaking up the sun. And here you come along trying to sell me my old job! I can't predict what will happen anymore. Everything I knew ended three years ago. The future is a long road of infinite surprises now."

"But your wisdom -"

"Most of what I know I learned the hard way by making mistakes. Some of them were quite horrendous. I'm just fortunate that I don't tend to repeat them."

"In Valen's name," she exclaimed in frustration and then flushed in embarrassment.

Valen only laughed ruefully. "And there's another reason. You know I hate that habit of using my name, yet when I try to convince people to stop..."

Delenn bowed her head, unable to look at him. "We have only honored, never worshiped you."

"They nearly did a few centuries ago and that cult wasn't easy to put down. I suppose I should be grateful that things have improved as much as they have."

He didn't sound grateful, but exasperated and very tired. She wanted to apologize, but was too mortified.

"Do you think this exhausting reverence would subside if I returned now?

"No."

"Yet, you are still determined to force me."

"Not force," she said, her distress increasing further. "I want you to be safe -"

"Am I not safe here?"

"Are you?"

"It's better than the alternative."

"That isn't an answer."

"I'm safe enough."

"What if we kept your identity a secret? Minbar's large population would make concealment easy and you'd be near friends."

"I'm sorry, Delenn."

She sighed and said, "Very well. I will try to convince you another time."

"You are welcome to visit me again."

"I won't give up."

"I know," he said with a sad smile.

- o0o -

Methos waited what felt like hours before Delenn finally returned to her flyer and departed. Once the desert heat set in and thirst started he always had difficulty keeping track of time. He stood up from the rocks he'd been hiding behind and dusted off his knees, though it didn't do much good. It wasn't until he'd darted across the open space and was half way down a flight of stairs that he sensed the presence of another Immortal.

"Knock, knock," Methos yelled. It was never fun to be greeted with a sword or other weapon, so he made an effort not to surprise other Immortals in their own homes.

"Come in, Methos," answered Valen.

Methos clamored down the stone steps and through the house to find a Minbari with his old student's face standing in a kitchen-like room. He was taking two metal cans from a cooling unit.

"Have a beer," Valen said, holding one out to his friend.

Methos opened the can gratefully and took a long drink from it. They'd both spent most of their lives living in places where it was dangerous not to drink something that contained at least a small amount of alcohol and even fresh looking water could make you ill, if not kill you. A few centuries of modern sanitation and better methods of killing germs hadn't quite removed Methos' distrust.

"I haven't had a beer in weeks. However did you get it way out here?"

"One of the perks of running cargo," he said before drinking from his own can.

"I was told that alcohol made Minbari psychotic," said Methos nervously.

"It does, but I'm only half Minbari."

"Do you only become half psychotic then?"

"No and I've been careful never to find out how much would cause that sort of reaction."

Valen moved to sit in a nearby chair and Methos slouched on a sofa-like piece of furniture that he assumed was of a Minbari style, though it bore a strong resemblance to the later Roman couches.

"How have you been?" Valen asked.

"Okay. Got out of the military after the war and cooled my heals in university for a decade. Didn't finish this time though."

"I noticed that Earthforce didn't record you as dead. The Minbari didn't find out about Immortals back then, by the way."

"That's good. I saw you on the news while you were commanding the Babylon 5 station. I thought you were excessively busy then, but now…."

"You don't look surprised, or shocked for that matter," said Valen.

"Over your appearance? No. Baldness has been popular worldwide many times, though usually as a defense against parasites. Even wearing antlers as a headdress is still trendy in certain modern ceremonies. Though I expect changing one's genetics to grow them yourself is a long way from becoming fashionable."

Valen laughed heartily. "I have to agree with you there. How did you find me?"

"Delenn," he said, neglecting to mention that he'd helped her do the finding. "Her Rangers retrieved me from the Narns."

"You mean… I'm so sorry. If I'd known it was you they'd taken –"

"You'd have run to my rescue. I know. Have you heard anything else about the 'Immortal Crisis' as they are calling it? Delenn's ship left ISN's range days ago."

"I've only had access to the official Minbari reports since the news broke, so you know more than I do."

"Getting home will be tricky then."

"I can take you most of the way, if you don't mind leaving within the hour."

"That would be perfect! Thank you."

"Delenn's visit here won't go unnoticed. I hope that more Minbari won't show up, but it's best if I spend very little time here for a while."

"Oh, by the way the Watchers are making some sort of deal with the Minbari," Methos said gesturing at the sky above. "They're quite pleased with themselves for finding you and very angry Delenn wouldn't let them come down here."

"I take it you weren't given permission either?"

"Of course not," replied Methos with a grin. "Didn't bother to ask."

"You think you snuck off Delenn's ship without the Rangers noticing? I sincerely doubt it."

"I'll have to take your word for that. No one tried to stop me at least."

- o0o -

"Our guest is where?" Delenn demanded.

"On Nibiru, I believe," her ship's alyt elaborated.

"You believe? You do not know?"

"It is likely that he slipped aboard your flyer and disembarked when you landed."

She sighed and brushed a lock of her hair off of her shoulder in agitation. "Mr. Benson has neither identification nor currency," she said and sighed again. "I hope Valen provides him with the means to travel."

Delenn stopped short as she realized what she'd said aloud. The surrounding Anla'shok made no reaction naturally, for they were all aware that Valen himself was on that planet and likely could help his friend. She would have to be careful when she returned to Minbar that she did not say even common place phrases in regard to Valen, much less ones that could arouse suspicion when she spoke literally.

"Entil'Zha!" called out the communications officer. "There is an intruder alert at Tuzanor," she read the encrypted message aloud, "Security reports that President Sheridan and your son are safe. They are searching the complex even now."

"Take us home, at once!" Delenn ordered.

- o0o -

Author: Marianne Todd

An hour previously

Minbar

John Sheridan leaned back into the comfort of the rear passenger seat of the flitter. He closed his eyes, intending to relax, or at least try to, for the twenty minutes or so that the journey would take. There were times, he reflected, when he would give anything to be back in the good old days of the Shadow War, or even the subsequent struggle to free Earth from the insane Morgan Clarke. Those were times when at least you knew who the enemy was and what you were fighting for. These days he wasn't so sure. In fact, for the past five days he hadn't been sure of anything, except that he missed Delenn. He knew that her best course of action in this particular instance was to do exactly what she was doing – dealing personally with the kidnapping issue. But that left the wider issue, of Immortals in general, right square in his lap. No-one seemed to get the fact that he was as much in the dark as anyone else about their existence – as was Delenn, but she just had that diplomatic approach, schooled by years of training, to make people feel their questions were being answered, even when they were given no new information.

He reckoned he was getting better at that sort of thing, normally, anyway. It was just that this business had become rather personal, and at the last meeting he had really lost his cool with the reporters, requiring them to remove themselves from the Alliance Headquarters. He had since received an apology from the main culprit and, while he refused to see him again, had agreed to meet with one of his colleagues in the city this morning. He was not prepared to allow any of the press back onto his turf until they proved that they could keep within the rules.

He was brought out of his reverie by the sound of Mitch, his pilot, talking over the comm to one of the Rangers who had gone on ahead to prepare for his visit.

"Almost there, sir," Anla'shok Luren, in the co-pilot's seat, turned to address him.

"Thanks."

"Are you sure you want to do this, Mr President?" asked his aide, noting his less than enthusiastic response.

"Quite sure that I don't, Gerald!" he replied. "But let's get it over with," he said as the flitter settled on the landing pad.

He started to get up, when Mitch called out from the front of the vehicle. "You might want to wait a minute, sir! There's something going on…" he broke off to listen to the comm again, hand up to his ear piece. "It seems there is a problem involving a Ms. Martin…"

"As in Alicia Martin, that I am meant to be meeting with?"

"Yes, sir. She appears to have suffered some sort of collapse."

"Hmph!" Sheridan caught Gerald's eye, and knew his aide had had the same thought – why could that not have happened to that idiot the other day! It would have spared them all a lot of aggravation.

"…one of ours – Simpson, I think, is checking her over now," the pilot continued.

That made sense, thought Sheridan. All the Rangers had fairly thorough First Aid training, but Anla'shok Jane Simpson was a specialist field medic. He made to get out of his seat again, but the pilot motioned to him to stay where he was.

"…roger that, I'll let the President know." He signed off the comm channel and turned to Sheridan again. "Simpson has called for one of our medevac teams to take Ms Martin to the med unit at the Ranger base."

Sheridan nodded his understanding; it was the closest facility for any humans requiring medical attention.

"So, no interview today then, sir," observed Gerald.

"No, I guess not. Damn," Sheridan grinned. Then his sense of honour and duty reasserted itself. "Convey my best wishes to Ms Martin, and get Simpson to let me know how she's doing once the doctors have seen her."

"Will do, sir. So, what would you like to do now?"

"Now? I'd like to go home!"

"Home it is. Buckle-up!" called the pilot.

Sheridan and Gerald refastened their seat restraints, as the flitter gave the faint shudder that indicated that the null-gravity drive was about to come on-line. Now, maybe he didn't miss the pre-Alliance days after all, Sheridan reflected. There had been some very fine moments during the initial phase, for example, the look on the Human engineers' faces as they had their first ride in one of these little Minbari ground cars had been absolutely priceless. He had heard them muttering to each other about conversion factors and energy co-efficients and so forth, and how did they manage to use anti-gravity to power the vehicle, while maintaining a normal environment inside. But he didn't care about those technical details; he just enjoyed the quiet, comfortable ride. Today, especially now, as he was heading home, intending to spend the unscheduled free time with a certain small child who was missing his mother…

The flitter came in to land at the Alliance Headquarters and Gerald jumped from his seat to open the door.

"Will there be anything else, sir?" asked Luren, as Sheridan stood up.

"Yes, there is. I wonder if you could do something for me?"

"Of course! Anything!"

"David was a bit upset when I left this morning – and I wondered whether a ride in the flitter might cheer him up."

"We could certainly give it a try," said Mitch, with a grin at Luren, who smiled tentatively in return.

"Then perhaps the three of you might like to get yourselves a drink and something to eat in the kitchen, and I'll go get him."

Sheridan smiled to himself as the three young Rangers bowed to him, then set off at the double, even Luren almost running to the kitchen. His family's cook had a well-deserved reputation for producing tasty treats at very short notice.

He strode rapidly down the corridor towards the courtyard that led to the private part of the house. "Now that's odd…" There was normally a Ranger on guard here to prevent visitors to the Alliance Headquarters from straying into the family quarters. But there was no-one here now, and the door was open, the flimsy curtain flapping in the breeze.

He activated his link. "Gerald!"

"Yes, Mr President?" was the instant reply.

"It may be nothing, but there's no-one here at the guardpost…"

"Come away from there, sir!" Gerald shouted. "We're coming to check it out!"

Sheridan almost took the prudent course and waited for back-up, but as he reached the end of the passageway he heard noises out in the courtyard. He drew the curtain aside in time to see a scuffle between one of his, dressed in Ranger brown, and another figure, dressed in black, his head and face covered in a shapeless hood. He started to run towards them and saw the intruder break free, bring his weapon up and fire at point blank range into the Ranger's chest. Then he spun around and targeted the President.

Sheridan was close enough to see the surprise in the intruder's eyes, and his hesitation as he recognised just who it was about to tackle him. That second was all Sheridan needed to throw himself down into a roll, rising to a half-crouch, in time to slam into the other man's legs, throwing him off balance. There was a pfft sound as the weapon went off, and Sheridan was aware of a flash of pain across his shoulders as they went down in a heap together. He struggled to get hold of the other man, already hearing running footsteps and shouts as his Rangers raced to help him. But the intruder was unexpectedly strong, and threw Sheridan against the wall, dazing him for a few seconds.

When his vision cleared, Gerald was kneeling beside him, his face white with horror.

"Mr President…"

"I'm fine," Sheridan levered himself up so that he was sitting, leaning against the wall. "So who was that?" he asked. "Let me have a look at him."

"I'm sorry, sir, but he's gone," said Mitch.

"What? He's dead? Damn it – !"

"No, sir! He's gone over the side!" Mitch pointed over the edge of the parapet. He had picked up the guard's weapon and was aiming carefully downwards.

"What the – !" Gerald helped him to his feet and supported him as he went to join Mitch looking down the steep cliff into the ravine below. The intruder could be seen, controlling the speed of his descent by means of a small, kite-like parachute.

Mitch took his time, and fired at him. The kite shuddered as it was pierced, and the figure swung wildly until it hit the ground. As they watched, another individual appeared and dragged the injured one towards the side of the ravine. Seconds later, a flyer emerged from the shadows, accelerating rapidly upwards and away.

"Get fighters after them!" Sheridan ordered.

"Already on their way, sir!" Mitch assured him. "Any second now."

Sheridan nodded, already hearing the fighters approaching. "Tell them to disable only – force a landing. I want to find out who they are." Mitch relayed the order through his comm link.

Sheridan gripped Gerald's shoulder. "But was he alone!" he exclaimed. "I need to see if David's all right!"

"Luren has gone with the other guards to check the rest of the house," said Gerald. "Ah! Here he is!"

"Your son is safe, Mr President," said Luren, hurrying into the courtyard.

"Thank goodness!" Sheridan swayed as the feeling of relief washed over him. He didn't protest as Gerald led him away from the edge, to the seat. But he had no sooner sat down when there was the sound of an explosion.

"What was that?" he demanded.

Mitch was listening to the comm. "The intruders' flyer – they were forcing it down, and it – it is destroyed," he reported.

An hour later, the flash burn on Sheridan's shoulders had been cleaned and dressed, arrangements had been made for the guard who had been killed, and he was sitting at his desk, watching the replay from the fighters as they pursued the fleeing flyer. The ranger pilots had obeyed his orders exactly, firing across the path of the fugitive, then flying in formation to force it to the ground. That's where the plan went wrong; for no apparent reason, the flyer suddenly erupted in a ball of flame. The explosion caused minor damage to the closest fighter, but fortunately the pilot had suffered no injury.

"And there was nothing in the wreckage to give any idea who they were?" he asked.

"There was hardly any wreckage to search," Anla'shok Steve Baker replied. "Any organic material was pretty much vaporised. So we can't even determine what race they were."

"I couldn't tell either," said Sheridan ruefully. "And I got closer to him than anyone."

"John, you say he hesitated?" He turned to the other screen where Delenn was watching proceedings from her ship.

"That was really odd," he confirmed. "He could have – " he saw the look on Delenn's face and quickly cut off what he had been going to say. "I obviously wasn't his target," he said instead, only to realise that the alternative was much worse, as Delenn went white.

"David? Do you think they were after David?"

"Unlikely, Entil'Zha," Baker replied, while Sheridan visibly struggled with the idea. "It was probably that the intruder was not expecting the President to be home at that time, and he was just surprised."

"So how would he know that? Does this mean we _do_ have an informer in the household?" No-one replied to that, and after a moment Delenn said, "I'll be home in three hours. John, get some rest, you look terrible!"

- o0o -

End Chapter Three

Thank you very much for reviewing everyone. It motivates me to write faster. Chapter four may take a few weeks depending on how quickly to takes for me to be sure it connects properly with the other plotlines. My beta reader Marianne and I are currently working on filling up a gap in the later chapter drafts.

Sorry to be cruel leaving you with a cliff hanger, but here is a bit of the next chapter to tease you.

Preview of Chapter Four:

"Friend of yours?" Methos asked.

"No, I've never met Captain Lochley."

"Fantastic! You didn't think to mention that a potentially hostile Immortal runs this station you regularly visit. You do realize how easily she could arrange to take your head?"

"If she's like that," said Valen. "It's a big place and Immortals come and go the same as everyone else."

"The chance of running into people you knew before your facelift wasn't risky enough for you, was it? Is this how you were planning on announcing to other Immortals what you've become?"


	4. Neither Here Nor There

Title: Valen's Return 

Author: Julie the Tall Terror

Summary: The galaxy learns that some Humans are Immortal. While greedy aliens are after the secret to immortality, the Minbari and Watchers search for a particular Immortal, Valen. Babylon 5/Highlander crossover.

Setting: 2264. The new Interstellar Alliance is still very shaky.

Babylon 5 characters: Valen (Sinclair), Delenn, Catherine, Sheridan, Garibaldi, possibly more.

Highlander the Series characters: Methos, the Watcher organization, possibly more.

You do NOT need to know anything about Highlander: the Series to understand this story and if you do, you'll just enjoy the familiar characters.

Big thanks to John Hightower for creating the Minbari Dictionary at Jumpnow.de and my beta reader Marianne Todd.

Chapter 4

Neither Here Nor There

_"It is then tradition for the guest to set aside one piece of flarn _

_in the memory of Valen in the place that is set aside for his return."_

-- Delenn, Babylon 5: "Confessions and Lamentations"

- o0o -

Babylon 5

Valen couldn't help but still think of Babylon 5 as his station, though it'd changed hands twice since he'd left the post. Time hadn't entirely removed the impression of coming home he felt every time he arrived. He'd returned as soon as he dared, as soon as the majority of his old friends and other acquaintances had left. He found every excuse he could to visit and at times had even considered the possibility of living here again. Blending in was possible.

Or maybe not, he considered as he looked over at Methos. His old friend's air of indifference wasn't much of a mask and it wouldn't be of any use if he were recognized. One good thing was that Interstellar Network News had stopped displaying his picture a few days after the Rangers had reported his rescue. A week's time had meant it was old news to them as they moved on to new reports of Humans being attacked on alien worlds. However, that didn't mean his face wasn't still fresh in people's minds.

"The haircut won't be enough," Valen pointed out as they turned onto Babylon 5's main corridor. Ahead of them, it was teeming with people of all races as usual. Crowds could be good for hiding in or a disaster if they got caught. Not much they could do about it now.

"I know, but it's the best I can do. If someone spots me, I'll play dumb," Methos said and hunched his shoulders looking down as he walked. "I don't know whether to avoid Humans or avoid aliens. Or both."

"Or neither. Act natural," he advised and led the way through the maze of booths and shops.

"Tell me again why I don't just hide on your ship while you get me an Ident-a-card?"

"Because a Minbari buying a Human's identification will definitely attract attention."

"Valen…"

"Call me Shaernur," Valen corrected him. "And whatever you do, _don't _slip up in front of the Minbari."

"Right, I'll be Benjamin."

"Benjamin what?"

"I don't know. Benjamin Franklin Pierce?"

"Again?"

"It's been centuries," Methos replied, as though that was more than enough time.

"It's a very obvious swap of Pierce Benson."

"Do you think I'd keep doing it all this time if it didn't work? I'll have you know a friend of mine used his real name for over four hundred years with little trouble. Okay, some trouble… oh, fine. I'll be Adam Frank."

"Shaernur!" called out a nearby voice.

Methos' voice trailed off as they both caught sight of a Minbari walking over to them, or more specifically to Valen.

"What a pleasure it is to see you so soon," he addressed Valen and bowed in greeting. He didn't use his own language, but spoke English having noticed Methos. "Some of my customers were just asking when you'd make your next delivery. I hadn't realized so many of them knew you by name."

Valen hadn't planned on interacting with the Minbari he knew on the station while he had Methos along. Now that he thought of it, perhaps this would be a good way of giving legitimacy to Methos' presence and a place to hide him should things go badly.

"I have good news, Tirkell," said Valen. "This is Adam Frank. He is looking to export Earth goods to Minbar. Mr. Frank, this is Tirkell of the Unn'ier Islands."

Methos copied the Minbari's bow as Valen made the introductions. Tirkell was middle aged with a pleasant manner typical of good shopkeepers around the galaxy.

"I hope you find my establishment to your satisfaction, Mr. Frank. It's difficult to acquire many Earth products. Your people have such strict copyright laws and limits on sales that much of what I have is sadly in used condition."

Methos nodded encouragingly. "Secondhand goods you say? We'll have to see about fixing that."

"I was just showing Mr. Frank the station," interrupted Valen. "Could we end the tour at your shop, say an hour before closing?"

"Certainly!" Tirkell said rather more enthusiastically than seemed necessary to Methos.

"That was easy," Valen commented as they walked away from the shop. "Let's get your Ident-a-card."

- o0o -

Valen deftly led Methos through the back ways of Babylon 5 and into Brown sector, better known as Down Below. It was much quicker than if Methos had tried to go alone, not to mention a safer way to travel. Valen wore his hood up, concealing his face and the fact that he was a Minbari. Methos had flatly refused his offer of a spare cloak. Humans just didn't wear them and if there was trouble, he didn't want to look like they were working together. The clothes he'd had no choice but to borrow were at least cut in a somewhat Human style, though in Minbari fabric.

"By the way," Methos said, giving Valen a curious look. "How'd you get that scar?"

"Fighting the Shadows."

"Ah. That doesn't exactly answer my question."

"Do you really want to know what was so bad it could do this?" Valen asked, gesturing to the thin line on his left cheek. After their immortality was triggered, Immortals ceased to scar, except on the neck.

"Yes. Did whatever rearranged your DNA make you able to scar like that?"

"No, this happened before my change. I was in a battle. A fragment of a Shadow vessel hit me, came right through my cockpit window and the vacuum of space killed me."

"How'd you explain that away?"

"I didn't have to. My ship was a prototype made with some Vorlon technology. The window repaired itself and the fighter re-pressurized. Everyone was focused on Catherine, she'd fallen into a rift in space, and in all the confusion I suppose no one realized I shouldn't have been alive. I thought I'd lost her," he said the last almost too quietly to hear. "Anyway, I had a time of it trying to pull the shrapnel out of my face before I docked. It was like glass, but it wasn't. The edges of it crumbled all over my glove. The gash festered instead of healing like normal. I got out of my fighter and went straight to my quarters.

"I panicked. Between wanting to go after Catherine and worrying that my Immortality was compromised… I almost told Rathenn what I was. Flecks of that iridescent black stuff burned like I was being poisoned. I seriously considered allowing the Minbari healers to clean it out even though they'd witness my immortality and then use that to convince the others to help me find Catherine."

Methos gave him a look that was akin to revulsion at the idea. Trust Valen not to let keeping that a secret get in his way. He could be a hazardous friend sometimes.

"I only considered it. Don't tell me you haven't thought the same when desperate enough," Valen chastised him. "The entire trip back to Minbar, my cheek would almost heal only to swell and split back open expelling grains of Shadow material like an infection until finally, I was left with this faint scar. Given that the original wound was the size of my fist, it could've been much worse. Even so, I had to keep it covered and dodge the medical staff for weeks so they wouldn't know that it had healed in a matter of days."

Methos thought about that before finally saying, "I'm glad the Shadows are gone."

"Me, too."

Methos sidestepped a ragged looking alien that was trying to pick his pocket. It was an instinctive movement. He didn't actually have anything worth stealing as Valen was carrying the money since he was armed. The paper boxes and various more difficult to identify substances the homeless people used to live in were much the same everywhere he'd traveled in the galaxy.

"Are there any homeless Minbari?" he asked, idly.

Valen didn't get a chance to answer. A pair of enormous aliens that bore a striking resemblance to dinosaurs stepped into their path.

"Single," came a melodious and feminine voice from the translating device one of the hulking aliens was carrying.

Methos would've laughed if they didn't look so eager to kill something. He wondered if they knew that their translator's audio was so terribly mismatched and not particularly good with Human words either.

"You'll have to go the rest of the way alone," Valen explained. "They don't like visitors bringing backup. I'll be waiting right here for you."

Methos nodded and Valen handed him a packet of alien hard currency. He couldn't use Earth credits here. Not only would they charge him extra to cover the cost of masking anyone's attempts to track the money's origin electronically, it still might get traced anyway. He stepped gingerly between the reptiles. To his relief, the one not drooling checked him for weapons and then pointed in the direction he should go. Around the corner was a simple desk where a slightly more appealing alien was sitting. He wondered idly if it was a good thing or not that his brain translated an avian appearance as more likely to be benign than a reptilian.

"Business?" the alien asked in a thick accent.

"Earth Ident-a-card."

She, if it was a she, handed him a placard with a blue square and said, "Go there."

Slightly bewildered, Methos began slowly walking further down the narrow hallway. He passed a few doors marked with brightly colored geometric shapes before stopping at the one with a blue square. There was no slot for a keycard and no button to push to ring a bell. He knocked and the door jerkily slid open halfway in its frame and jammed.

"Enter," said a bored voice, as though the door's antics were normal.

Methos did so, ducking under the half raised door and hoping it wouldn't fall on him. "I need an Ident-a-card," he told the man at the desk. He was immensely relieved to see he was a Human and even his seedy looking appearance was a welcome sight.

"How much can you afford?"

"It needs to be good enough to get to Earth," Methos replied, not wanting to say how much money he was carrying. "I have Abbai currency."

"Do I look like an exchange terminal?"

"I'm sure someone in this establishment can use it," said Methos smartly. "I also have Minbari script if you'd prefer that."

"Minbari?" the man echoed in an odd tone of voice and frowned looking up at him.

Methos wondered if perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned it, but then if it were a problem surely Valen wouldn't have given it to him to use here? He had no more time to wonder as suddenly there was the sound of people yelling down the hallway. Methos stepped out of the tiny room, the dealer at his heels.

Another alien was running down the hall, yelling several words unintelligible to Methos. Except for the last word, "Trap!"

He continued past Methos, repeating the same string of words warning others. The Ident-a-card dealer squeezed past him with an armload of stuff, pausing only to pluck the placard out of Methos' hand and rip the matching one off the wall. He took off running. Methos was uncertain whether to follow or go the way he came in.

One of the massive guards' came stomping and yelling around the corner. "You," his machine translated sweetly as he brandished what looked like a short sword to Methos. "You lead Security here. You die."

Methos ran for it, knowing not to bother trying to explain that he'd done no such thing. He made it halfway before a burning sensation spread rapidly along his lower back and up his shoulders sending him crashing to the dingy deck. He had half a second to realize that he'd been shot by a PPG before he died and collapsed to the floor.

He gasped greedily for air as he returned to the land of the living and opened his eyes to see the heels of two huge scaly feet. To his relief, the behemoth hadn't decided to hack him to bits after shooting him. Even better, he had his back to him and was focused on aiming his PPG at the next person to come around the corner. His other hand held the sword down pointed at the floor. Methos surged to his feet and snatched it out of the guard's loose grip.

The alien turned to look behind himself and started to swing his gun around only to freeze in shock at the sight of Methos alive. His hesitation gave Methos the time he needed to cut off his head. The alien made a lot of noise crashing to the deck. Methos backed away from the twitching corpse and examined the weapon. It looked smaller when the guard had held it and the handle was horribly bulky, he realized it wasn't a sword at all, but a knife. Methos had carried heavy iron or bronze swords most of his life, it would do.

He spent half a second looking for the PPG before concluding it must be under the alien. He couldn't waste time trying to get it, besides it wasn't as though he could move the guy anyway. As he moved carefully down the hallway, he scratched at his back where the PPG blast had hit him. The hole was healed as though it never was there and the skin smooth again, but burns always left a phantom itching for a while afterwards. Not to mention it'd ruined a perfectly good shirt.

The sounds of a struggle were growing louder. Methos peaked around the corner and jumped back just in time to not get hit by Valen careening past him with one of the other guards clinging to his shoulders. Valen spun around, slamming the alien's back into a wall with all his might to dislodge him. He fell heavily, nearly taking Valen down with him, but the cloak's catch snapped releasing Valen. He dispatched the alien with a long metal pole in a single blow.

With no other thugs in sight, they quickly ran back the way they'd entered. Methos tossed the sword once they cleared the entrance and darted down a new corridor.

"Why'd you throw it away?" Valen asked in a voice just audible over the distant fighting and shouts of station personnel ahead of them.

"We're out of there and it's not a good idea to get caught carrying one of those," he explained. The sound of people running down the corridor grew louder. "You should get rid of that pole," he advised.

To his surprise, Valen's weapon collapsed into a small tube. He tucked it into his tunic without a moment left to spare. Two of the station's security personnel came barreling around the corner with their PPG's aimed at the Immortals.

"Halt! Security! Drop your weapons and put your hands in the air. Now!"

Calmly, as though nothing had gone amiss, they both raised their empty hands.

"Only a little Ranger business, officers," said Valen and he nodded down at his tunic. With his cloak gone, his Isil'zha insignia was clearly visible. "Why else would a Minbari and a Human be fighting criminals in Down Below?"

"Oh, well…" said the lead officer as they both lowered their guns. "Be sure to file the proper reports."

"Of course," answered Methos. He put his arms down, but was careful to keep his palms visible. No need to startle anyone unnecessarily. As the officers waved them by, he kept his back angled toward the walls and Valen stepped around him to block their view.

"Hey," the second officer said suddenly. "You look like that Immortal on the news."

"Really? Thanks," Methos said, beaming like a kid. "I'm thinking about doing parties."

Once they were out of sight, Methos felt for the hole in the back of his shirt. It was black fabric, so the scorching wouldn't be noticeable and was too large for him anyway. He folded the loose material carefully over the hole and re-tucked it into his belt. It would have to do until they got back to the ship. He waited until they had returned to the busier and safer levels of the station before asking, "What happens when they realize we're not Rangers?"

"But I am. I made the Rangers," he answered as he removed the pin from his outer tunic and put it in his pocket. Apparently he didn't want to advertise he was a Ranger to everyone, just use it in Down Below as needed.

"And when there is no report?"

"We'll both be off station by then, I hope. We can try again later tonight. In the meantime, you'll have to pose as a salesman again. It's the best way to explain why I've brought a Human here."

"What if your colleagues ask for my non-existent Ident-a-card?"

"They won't because I'm vouching for you. The station personnel won't ask either so long as nothing happens to attract their notice. Staying near the merchants will let you hide in plain sight."

"What am I supposed to be selling then?" Methos asked as they reached the Zocolo.

"Make something up," Valen said and then clarified, "something decent. Don't draw attention for your own amusement."

"I'll see what he's got already," Methos murmured as he looked around at the people bustling in and out of the shops. "Popular place. Is it just me or are there more Minbari about then there were earlier?"

Valen looked surreptitiously around. "There are," he agreed. "They don't seem to be shopping, either."

The number of people stopping to look at them, or pausing to look at what others were staring at was growing the further they walked. "I've been recognized," Methos stated grimly.

"Maybe. Staring isn't normal Minbari behavior, much less trying to hide that they are staring. It reminds me a bit of how they acted when Kosh was here. They'd heard so many legends about Vorlons that they did tend to gawk for a moment the first time they saw his encounter suit."

"I see," Methos said after a pause. Time to find out the worst case scenario then. "If so, what will they do?"

"Exactly what they are doing, whether they are certain it is you or not. They won't approach you, at least."

"And I can't ask them what they are looking at."

"Not unless you want to confirm it."

"Someone from Delenn's ship has a big mouth," Methos growled under his breath.

"Not them. Delenn's crew are Rangers."

"How about one of the passengers?"

"If they weren't told not to…" Valen admitted with a grimace.

"Think they'll tell the station's command staff?"

"I doubt it, but if it does get out we can count on the captain to hush it up."

"Why, so he can take the credit?"

"No, because _she's_ one of us."

"Friend of yours?" Methos asked.

"No, I've never met Captain Lochley."

"Fantastic!" he hissed. "You didn't think to mention that a potentially hostile Immortal runs this station you regularly visit. You do realize how easily she could arrange to take your head?"

"If she's like that," said Valen. "It's a big place and we come and go the same as everyone else."

Methos' worry about the attentive crowd was pushed aside by the much greater threat, at least for the moment. "The chance of running into people you knew before your facelift wasn't risky enough for you, was it? Is this how you were planning on announcing to other Immortals what you've become?"

"I've encountered the captain twice in this very corridor and she's never given me so much as a glance."

"So it happened that she wasn't in the mood to hunt through a large crowd those times," he said dismissively.

"Tell me," Valen said, annoyed now. "If you sensed an Immortal and the only other being in sight was an alien, what would you think?"

"That the Immortal was hidden from view," Methos conceded. "All right, I get your point. Sorry to say this, but the sooner we part company the better. I have no desire to run into others like us, especially not one in a position of power and the Minbari staring contest is getting disturbing."

"Agreed, I… what is going on?" Valen's words stuttered to a halt. "Look ahead, standing under that blue sign over there. What do you see that shouldn't be here?"

Methos followed his gaze to a group of Minbari of various ages, some old, some young, some very young. "What… the children? Huh, I've never seen Minbari kids before."

"They don't leave Minbari space. Ever. The children are too precious to risk."

Valen sounded genuinely alarmed. He hadn't been overly surprised at the possibility that a few Minbari might wish to catch a glimpse of an Immortal, yet his reaction now implied this was something different. "I wouldn't bring kids to see me," Methos concluded. "So, what's so important the parents have hauled their children all the way out here to show them?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe they're here to see the Giant Egress," Methos said, irked at Valen's useless reply.

Valen gave him a longsuffering look. "You are reminding me of why I never invite you to visit."

"Well, let's get this business charade over with, shall we?"

- o0o -

The foreboding feeling that was nagging Valen grew substantially worse as they approached the shop, which also had more Minbari milling about than usual. As he crossed the threshold, his heart sank as he saw an entourage of Grey Council acolytes and Minbar's highest-ranking representatives on the station waiting inside. They bowed deeply in unison and did not so much as raise their eyes from their shoes. The shopkeeper and his employees standing nearby picked up on their behavior quickly and likewise began dropping their gaze. Their solemn silence spread to those standing just outside the doorway, engulfing the rest of the crowd behind him until the only sound was the gentle tinkling of the bells carried by three of the acolytes. Though he could guess what was about to happen, it didn't mean he had to like it.

"Entil'Zha Valen," said the council messenger in a hushed, reverent voice.

Tirkell and his assistants tensed, stifling gasps as she spoke. She paid no heed to their reactions and continued in Adronanto, "The Grey Council requests that you accept their hospitality onboard the Valen'tha and retake your rightful place among our people."

"That was fast," he commented lowly, also in the religious caste dialect. He schooled his face so as not to show his churning emotions. All he wanted to do was get out of here. "I'm afraid I must decline."

"Master, please," she spoke desperately and her aides shifted anxiously in place. "If you don't accept the council's invitation, they will not only announce your return, but also your location. The resulting flood of supplicants – "

" – will give me no choice but to leave or be mobbed. Not to mention how they'd disrupt any public place I go to. Yes, I've had a reminder of what that is like today. I suppose that's how the council found me?"

"Yes. The sudden pilgrimage to this place did not go unnoticed. Escaping not only alive from a Soul Hunter, but unscathed was extraordinary enough to attract even the council's attention. They recognized your identity image at once. They couldn't have found you if it weren't for these circumstances. You left no trace from Nibiru and Babylon 5 was the last place they expected you to be."

"I know that you are only doing your duty as a messenger and I mean no slight against you when I say this, but you can tell the Nine that if they want me, they'll have to fetch me themselves. Now, go."

"Yes, master."

The messenger and acolytes bowed deeply again to him before leaving the shop as he ordered. None of the rest of the Minbari spoke or looked up in their admirable imitation of statues. He turned and watched the crowd outside thicken ominously in the acolytes' wake. A few aliens and Humans paused in confusion before hurrying nervously on their way past the shop.

Valen stepped into the corridor and moved quickly through the people as if they weren't there. Methos hurried after him. They turned a corner, passed by an occupied lift, crossed into another smaller corridor and then backtracked to some stairs to a lower level before Valen stopped at a lift just unloading its passengers.

As they stepped inside, he said quickly, "I expect that crowd to park itself outside my ship as soon as they realize they've lost which direction I've gone. The Council's messenger wouldn't have used my name in apublic place if they didn't want everyone to know. Of all the times to be without a hooded cloak, why now…" he muttered in exasperation.

"So, I take it I'm safely unrecognized for the moment?"

Valen nodded as he realized that Methos likely hadn't understood much of what had been said in the shop, other than to notice that the Minbari weren't interested in him.

"Good," said Methos and immediately jumped to the correct conclusion. "What did they want with you then?"

"A week ago, some merchants and I were caught in a crossfire," Valen told him, choosing to explain only a fraction of the problem. "We don't usually trade with unstable worlds, it was a local protest that got out of hand. I was hit by shrapnel, but I thought no one had seen it."

"Well, wouldn't they laugh it off if they had?" Methos suggested. "Just think their eyes played tricks on them when you turned out to be fine?"

"Sure, if they were Humans wishing to avoid the inconvenience of ridicule," Valen said and then muttered half to himself, "and Minbari think Humans never conform." He shook his head before continuing. "Minbari don't dismiss what they see so easily. No one said anything, but then workers wouldn't contradict me despite that the Minbari's respect for another's privacy doesn't apply to dangerous situations. The warrior and religious castes would've bluntly questioned me or shouted that they'd seen a miracle if they had witnessed it. Workers are the quiet ones."

"Not quiet enough. That was a lot of people."

"How'd they know where to find me, though?"

"Would those merchants with you in that crossfire know your route takes you to Babylon 5?"

"Yes."

"Bet these people started arriving days ago, then."

"What am I going to do?"

Valen said it in a half rhetorical tone, but Methos answered anyway. "You could vanish. Spend a decade or two on a tropical island, mountaintop… anywhere else. I wouldn't recommend another desert locale."

"I meant right now."

"Good question. I don't know. Help me get off the station?" he asked hopefully.

Valen nodded. "Keeping a low profile doesn't matter now. I'll buy your ticket, so at least that will be done."

They exited the lift and headed straight for an available terminal. Methos kept a look out for curious Minbari. However, the machine rejected Valen's credit-chip at once.

"They've locked me out of my accounts," he said, stunned.

"Don't you have hidden ones?"

"Yes, within Minbar's system. I don't have a card for them here. Didn't think I'd need it," he said as his mind scrambled for a way out of this mess.

"How about we just leave the station? I can get an Ident-a-card somewhere else."

"I was just thinking the same thing. If the traffic's low enough, I might get a departure slot in a few hours… or not," said Valen angrily. "They've impounded my ship!"

"Someone knew you'd try to give them the slip then?" said Methos catching on quickly.

"That or they prepared for every possibility before approaching me. If so, then I'm surprised that they haven't gone to the station's captain to –"

"Babylon 5 is under a non-emergency lockdown," the station's public announcement system blared over their heads. "This is not an emergency, but a diplomatic matter. No ships may leave. I repeat: Babylon 5 is under a non-emergency lockdown."

"Now what?"

"Now, we get away from the crowds," Valen answered.

- o0o -

They abandoned the station's main corridors, all of which seemed to have an inordinate number of Minbari in them. Methos wasn't sure if it was merely his imagination or if he was noticing them more. Valen led the way into Babylon 5's massive gardens and hydroponics. It wasn't exactly a good hiding place, but the various bushes, small trees and art made it easier to shake off anyone that might be following Valen than in the halls. It was also a good place to talk without being overheard.

"You don't have to go with them," Methos said as he leaned against a sculpture of a weeping figure.

"True, I can wait for them to knock me out and drag me away," replied Valen sarcastically. He folded his arms and began pacing along the walkway.

Methos gave him a disbelieving look, dismissing the statement as exaggeration. "They know where you live, your ship and your current identity. If that's not enough, then are they about to break Delenn's promise that Minbari won't hold Immortals captive?"

"This isn't about immortality really, they'd act like this even if they didn't know. The problem is that they've recognized me," Valen admitted. "They wouldn't hurt me, but you'd be surprised at how much the Grey Council can justify to themselves with the words _'for his own good_.' Sorry for getting you stuck here, by the way."

"Not your fault… well, yes it is your fault, but I certainly won't hold it against you. I suppose I can leave after the Minbari have whisked you away."

"Or someone else does."

"You aren't seriously considering that, are you?" Methos asked, disapproving. "You haven't exactly been on Earth's Christmas card list lately."

"They'd do it for the sake of pulling one over Minbar and it'd be easier to skip out on Earth later."

"Before your makeover sure, but now?" he said shaking his head. "They might kill you for becoming Minbari or hand you over to them."

"So, I should just go along with it?"

"If you've no choice, then why not stick with your fan club? They must drop their guard eventually, then you can clear out."

"'Live, grow stronger, fight another day,'" Valen quoted one of Methos' favorite sayings. "Is that it?"

"Yeah, it works."

"Works for you."

"And you. You went along with things after the war, didn't you? Let Earthforce ship you out wherever they pleased no matter how much you disliked it. I saw the newspapers after they dumped you on Minbar. You said yourself on the flight from Nibiru that you didn't want to take over leading the Rangers at first. "

"Granted, so long as what they asked of me wasn't wrong –"

"What's bad about this? Other than the being thrown into the limelight like Delenn and becoming famous as the second person to change species, that is?" Methos said with a shudder. "It isn't as though the galaxy knows you are Immortal." His attempt to downplay Valen's dilemma by comparing it to his own didn't help much.

"I'm not ready to return to that life."

Now that was an oddly worded reply. "Have you been getting ready?" Methos asked unable to guess at what Valen meant.

"Not really. Now doesn't seem like the right time, but I don't know when will be."

"I know the feeling well. Reluctant hero syndrome strikes all of us."

"I do believe that is the first time I've ever heard you refer to yourself as heroic," said Valen, amused.

"Don't tell anyone. My reputation would be ruined."

"That's the other problem. My reputation is absurdly unrealistic," replied Valen in a tired voice. "I'm a cultural icon."

"Ah, so you can only go down, not up?"

"Precisely."

"So what? Why should you care? Do what you like… okay," Methos amended at Valen's disapproving look. "Do what is right, honorable, etc. as usual."

"What would I do if you weren't here, Methos?"

"Agonize over only completing nine impossible things before breakfast instead of ten, I expect..." Methos' words trailed off as they walked around the next corner.

The path ahead of them seemed to be overflowing with Minbari warriors. Methos struggled to blink away an unpleasant flashback to the last time he'd seen this many intimidating, black clad Minbari. They weren't brandishing weapons to his relief, but standing at attention. An honor guard then, not a threat, he concluded. It didn't help that whoever had sent them looked to have picked the largest and fiercest available. Though they were only on eye level or slightly taller than the Immortals, they somehow seemed to eclipse everything around them.

The guards bowed formally to Valen.

"The council is waiting outside the station now?" asked Valen in English for Methos' benefit.

"Yes, master," answered the group's commander in the same language, though grudgingly.

"Lead on then."

The warriors took positions surrounding them both, effectively ignoring Methos while also including him, probably because of how Valen had addressed them. He looked at Valen and raised one eyebrow, inquiring what to do. Valen shook his head in response and began walking forward. Methos sighed and fell in line. Obviously the warriors weren't going to make him stay behind if Valen didn't tell them to.

At first, Methos was afraid the guards were going to parade through the main corridor, but to his relief they chose residential and less frequented areas of the station far from the commercial hub. The few people they passed hurried out of their way. The normally busy corridors leading to the docking bays were deserted. Whether that was due to the canceled flights or they were intentionally cleared, Methos didn't know. The lack of station personnel bothered him.

Finally, the guards halted outside a hanger bay door and looked menacingly at Methos. Valen gave Methos that long suffering half smile he always wore when faced with a tiresome duty. He'd do it and make the best of it. Methos could only be glad he wasn't stuck in such a situation. He certainly wouldn't continue to worry about a friend he could no longer help, like Valen was probably doing now, though.

"This is goodbye, then?" he asked, deciding the matter for Valen.

"Afraid so. I'm sorry I couldn't be of more assistance, old friend."

Methos waved his apology away. "I'll manage."

"You're welcome to take my ship. They'll release it when I'm gone."

"Thanks, but no. Minbari ships are not exactly nondescript. Not that I'd know how to fly the thing anyway," he added hastily, mindful of the warriors listening. "See you later then."

Methos turned to leave only to stop in mid-step as he sensed another Immortal approaching. He and Valen stared up and down the empty corridor in unison causing the guards to tense. They homed in on the sensation only they could feel and stared directly at the lift they'd exited just a few minutes before.

"There's nowhere for us to go," Methos murmured apprehensively, which prompted the warriors to brandish knives and pull out those extending pikes of theirs as their eyes searched for the unknown threat. Methos didn't bother to wonder how they'd brought them on the station, apparently it was possible to sneak in anything so long as it was unlike Earth's weapon designs and wasn't universally illegal.

The lift doors opened and out stepped a tall woman in an Earthforce uniform who was clearly the station's captain. Methos froze, unable to hide the look of absolute terror spreading across his face. It took a moment for him to return to his senses. Of all Immortals, why did it have to be her? As she approached her eyes slid at once to Methos and hardened before centering on Valen.

"So you are the Minbari VIP who has caused such an uproar?" said Captain Elizabeth Lochley brusquely as she walked up to Valen. "Your government made a really big stink to shut down Babylon 5's traffic and without a decent explanation, of course. Officially, this nonsense has been allowed as a courtesy. Minbar is going to compensate everyone's business hindered by the lockdown and that's a heck of a lot of money. Unofficially, Earthgov wants to know who is so darn important and so do I."

The warriors bristled in outrage, but Valen raised a hand to forestall them from doing anything rash.

"Captain, I cannot answer that," he replied

"Or maybe the fuss is over the company you keep," she said, her gaze moving over to Methos again. "I'd like a word," she addressed him haughtily, "If you don't mind."

Valen and Methos exchanged a mutual look of uncertainty before Methos stepped away from the Minbari and followed her to the end of the corridor. All he could do is hope that if she tried to kill him that Valen would intervene in time. After all, he wasn't armed, but Valen and his warrior posse were.

"Methos," she hissed in disgust.

"Cassandra," he replied resignedly.

"I saw on the news that you were captured by aliens. Rather fitting, wasn't it?"

"It wasn't the first time I've been someone's prisoner. Would you like the gory details?"

"Don't bore me. Are you working for the Minbari now?"

"No, they rescued me. I just owe them a favor," he said, not bothering to tell her that it wasn't these Minbari who helped him.

"You don't pay debts," she said with a scoff.

"They don't know that. Relax, I'm not even leaving with them. They'll get nothing."

Cassandra thought about that for a moment. "As much as I dearly wish to kill you for what you did to me," she said through gritted teeth, "a Quickening of that magnitude would turn this station into a deathtrap. I won't murder a quarter of a million people. I refuse to become like you, much less worse than you. So, you get to live a little longer."

She strode angrily back to the assembled Minbari. "As for you," she addressed Valen and her voice changed pitch to a low compeling tone. "You will take this man with you and get off my station. Now."

She didn't wait for a response, but stormed back the way she came.

Once the captain was on the lift, Valen gave Methos a highly insulted look and snapped, "You could have warned me she was a telepath."

"She isn't. She can't read thoughts, she just has a voice hypnosis ability," he explained hastily.

"Don't tell me it only works on the weak minded."

"No, it only affects those who can hear her… well, her elders tend to be immune. Funny, that compulsion should've worked on you."

"I've aged a bit extra, didn't Delenn tell you?"

"She forgot to mention it."

"Ah, I'll fill you in later. In the meantime, you'll have to come with us."

"What?" Methos exclaimed. "You're not serious?"

"Cassandra obviously believes that I'll comply, which shows that her power of suggestion normally works on Minbari. I don't know if your proximity prevented her from clearly sensing me, if her anger distracted her or if she dismissed the possibility outright. I'd rather she didn't get the opportunity to think twice about it."

"You'd be long gone by then."

"But you won't. She'll have days to wonder about it while you scramble for an Ident-a-card and try to book passage in the traffic backlog. Do you think she won't detain you for questioning?"

"Very well," Methos said with a resigned sigh. He stopped suddenly and said, "Hang on, I didn't tell you her name was Cassandra."

"No, you didn't," Valen replied with a small smile. He turned to the assembled Minbari and asked, "Could any of you hear what the Humans were saying? No? Pity, you all missed a very interesting discussion."

The warriors almost stuffed Methos in their second flyer, until Valen objected. Giving in, they'd put him in the furthest seat from Valen and parked the burliest of their number next to him. A glance out of the window confirmed that they'd also commandeered Valen's ship, whether because he'd turned it down or not, Methos didn't know.

"Never thought I'd have to board one of those monsters again," Methos commented lowly as he watched the Grey Council's war cruiser loom larger and larger in the forward window.

Valen turned in his seat to look at him. "You could try imagining it's an angelfish," he suggested trying to lighten his friend's mood.

"I bought one of those for a girlfriend once. Damn thing ate the rest of her fish."

Valen burst out laughing, though Methos could tell it was more from stress than actual humor.

"How can you find that funny?" Methos said pointing ahead at the war cruiser.

As though he were an errant child, the warrior next to him firmly grasped Methos' outstretched arm and forced it back down. Methos matched his glare, but didn't resist.

"I'm sorry," Valen apologized. "The humiliation and fear has long since faded away for me, but not for you."

"Blink of an eye," he replied caustically. "Having just spent an unscheduled holiday with the Narns doesn't help either."

"Will you be alright?"

"Yeah, I'll have to be," Methos said. "Tell me, what would the Minbari," he glanced at the warrior out of the corner of his eye, but otherwise pretended neither he nor the others were listening, "have done if they'd found Immortals at the end of the war?" He referred none too subtly to their capture at the Battle of the Line.

"Probably much the same as now," answered Valen morosely. "If its any consolation, I think they'll be too distracted to bother you or the others for awhile."

"Good," he said, not caring how it sounded.

"Any particular place you'd like to be dropped off at?" Valen asked amiably.

"I'll have to think. Anywhere close obviously… Tau Ceti, preferably."

"Are you sure? That's an awfully small place."

"It'll do."

What seemed to be the entire ship's personnel was waiting on deck as they docked. Methos had seen a newsreel of President Luchenko's visit to the first Warlock class ship last year, but that paled in comparison to this. And not because he was personally here either, the warriors didn't let him get much of a view. They formed a veritable wall behind Valen. He caught a glimpse of a row of cloaked and hooded grey figures bowing deeply to Valen before a pair of white robed acolytes herded him behind the flyer and out of sight.

It made Methos feel rather like a pet dog that needed to be removed lest he spoil the ceremony by barking. He'd heard it said that the Minbari had a ritual for everything. The more important the event, the longer and more complicated the ritual. Thinking of that made him rather glad he wasn't expected to go through what promised to be a very long ordeal for Valen.

- o0o -

The Valen'tha

Hours later when all the ceremonies were properly performed, instead of retiring the Nine broke from protocol and led Valen to the council chamber. He was alone before the Grey Council for the first time in centuries, though it'd been only a few years for them. He did not stand in the center spotlight, but paced the outer edges of the council's places moving from darkness to dim outer light with each step. In another break from tradition, all of them removed their hoods. He faintly recognized a few faces, but the rest were strangers.

As Valen listened to their anxious voices, he reflected on the strain recent events had put on this government. Nearly twenty years of upheaval was responsible for more turnover than usual for the council. Most of the members who'd met him when he was Human were no longer part of the current ruling body. Jenimer and Neroon were dead, Delenn was deposed, Rathenn, Hedronn and Coplann each declined to return when Delenn reformed the Council. Morann and Racine were not invited back. The result was that of the nine in front of him, only two had been Satai during the Earth/Minbari war, both worker caste. He'd seen two of the others on his first journey to Minbar, but hadn't spoken with them. The five new additions were entirely unknown to him.

His presence apparently didn't intimidate them in the slightest, as evidenced by the thorough roasting he was getting.

"My family died in the civil war! You could have stopped the priests' and warriors' insanity," said Katz, his voice breaking and he was almost in tears. He was the oldest member of the council. "If you had only stopped them."

"I couldn't have," Valen answered sorrowfully.

"You could!" insisted Nur. Like Katz, she'd been on the council the longest. "If you'd revealed yourself the fighting would have ended. None would disobey you, master."

Valen looked at her sadly. The others mirrored her stricken expression. They felt betrayed naturally. However, they were far from renouncing him. There were so many things he could say that would sooth their anger. How easily he could reassure them, but empty platitudes now would only delay the inevitable. Saying nothing at all would do more damage than telling the truth. The painful truth would have to do.

"As I could have stopped you from your unholy war against Earth?"

That silenced them, but at the cost of increasing the tension. The stiffening of their postures, the suppressed gasps were a warning that the slightest wrong word could incite involuntary violence. Minbari weren't prone to it anymore, but it did happen under extreme duress and the shame they'd feel afterward would only make things worse. He'd have to take the risk.

"Do you think it was easy for me to watch you commit atrocities? You know that any action I took to change what happened would at best change nothing, but more likely it would've jeopardized the future."

"You could have warned Dukhat," accused one of the warrior Satai, Mazik, while the rest murmured uneasily. "He could have lived – "

"Dukhat was my son!" Valen bellowed over their voices. They quieted abruptly, horror etched on every face. "Can you imagine what it is like to hold your child knowing you couldn't spare or warn him of his fate? It broke my heart."

Some placed a hand onto the center of their chests over their own heart in response to that expression. It wasn't the same as the Human gesture, but similar enough considering they had no idea Valen introduced that phrase to them a thousand years ago. It was yet another unintended change he'd wrought on their culture.

"Dukhat was my son," he repeated more softly. "I'd have died if it could have saved him, saved my people from slaughtering each other, spared us all that agony and despair. However, you know as well as I that it would have been worse if I'd interfered. The Shadows would have moved too soon. Trying to postpone the civil war would have been no better."

"And now, master? Are you interfering?" asked the old priest, Bhurli, his voice deceptively quiet.

"Yes," Valen said bluntly. "You've forced me out of seclusion and will now reap the results."

The approach of an acolyte interrupted them. In his hands was a long shrouded object. He walked to Dhaliri, the other religious caste Satai and bowed. She nodded in return and unwrapped it to reveal the Triluminary staff. She took it from him and he backed away into the shadows. She turned to Valen and held it out to him.

"Master, will you not take your staff?" asked Dhaliri.

He looked at it thoughtfully. It was the most recent replacement of his original wooden pole, now long gone, but the Triluminary topping it was the same. It became the mark of the leader of the Grey Council to carry it and in the absence of a leader, a temporary speaker for the Nine held it when in session. None of these Satai had touched it since Delenn reformed the council. When she'd reserved the leadership of the council for "the One who is to come" they'd set aside their most powerful symbol in response. He'd found her choice of words interesting when he'd heard them on the live broadcast shown to all Minbari space. Zathras had called him "the One who was," called Delenn "the One who is," and called Sheridan "the One who will be."

Valen could attest that he'd done all that he was supposed to do in the past, Delenn had accomplished much in the present and Sheridan had already begun his destiny. He was certain that Delenn had not intended this staff for anyone she knew, not Sheridan and not himself. After all, she had every reason to believe he'd died centuries ago.

He'd expected the Minbari who knew he'd been Human to logically assume that his first encounter with them during the Earth/Minbari war was the return he wrote about. It would be for them, chronologically. However, that wasn't what he'd meant. Given his likely very long life, he had planned to stand before the Minbari people again someday. Though he'd intended it to be at a time of his own choosing, not by accident and certainly not now.

It humbled him to think that perhaps Delenn and others had continued to hold onto the promise he'd written over nine hundred years ago, despite that they knew his origins. However, Delenn, Rathenn and Jenimer weren't here. Strangers surrounded him. Delenn had appointed them and he trusted her judgment, yet he hesitated for one reason. When he'd come aboard, not one Ranger was amongst those who greeted him. He couldn't help but wonder what this council's motives were in that they'd take the time to bring a representative from every caste and clan, yet exclude his Anla'shok. He strongly suspected that they'd not told Delenn what they were doing. He was sure that she'd learned of it anyway and sent Rangers, so why weren't they here? Had they been refused admittance?

Noticing that his long silence was disturbing them, Valen broke his gaze from the staff and answered cryptically, "Only when it is."

Exhausted both mentally and physically, he left the chamber. There was a veritable bevy of acolytes waiting in the corridor for him along with a full honor guard. They bowed deeply to him and kept their eyes downcast. Even the warriors didn't look at his face, but somehow managed to keep an eye on the area by staring at the wall above his head each time they looked in his direction. Though he knew that an honor guard was appropriate for his status, for one cynical moment he wondered if they were there to keep him from running off.

He turned to the nearest one and said, "Inform the ship's alyt to head for the Human outpost Tau Ceti. Once my guest has departed there, we may resume course."

"Yes, master," he answered and hurried away.

Valen suppressed a sigh of relief that no one argued with him. "Show me to my quarters," he instructed the rest.

He followed them wearily through the passages, yet he still forced himself to take note of where he was at in regard to the rest of the ship. He knew the war cruiser design very well, however he expected the Grey Council's ship to have some differences from the norm. He never had a flagship like this in the past for he and the first council spent most of their time on Babylon 4. Later councils made it their custom to live among the stars. He was aware that their ship had been replaced many times and they always gave it the same name, Valen'tha, after him.

Startling his entourage, Valen stopped suddenly in the middle of a corridor as he realized that this was the same ship they'd used during the war, which meant…

"Take me to Dukhat's sacred place," he commanded.

They obeyed with more speed than he anticipated, as though they were frightened of being caught taking him there or desperate to get it over with. Walking so fast, nearly running at one point, shook off his weariness. They stopped at a beautiful, but nondescript door by Minbari standards. Though it was unmarked, he knew that no Minbari on this ship would enter it without permission. He didn't know if it were locked or not, but the door keyed open smoothly the moment he stretched out his hand. The lights came on automatically and tiny lamps lit up on the opposite wall as the door behind him closed leaving him alone.

Though he'd never seen this room, he knew that everything inside was arranged exactly as Dukhat had left it on the previous ship, the one that was attacked by the EAS Prometheus and by Soul Hunters. Such shrines were usually dismantled after the mourning period ended, but like his house in Tuzanor, he knew the Minbari would always keep this room because of who Dukhat was. He stood on the threshold for several long moments, taking it in. He didn't know what he'd find or what he was looking for. Finally, he crossed to the meditation triangle hanging on the wall, the only distinctive feature of the room. As he drew near, something concealed in the center activated in response.

A holographic projection stemmed from it. He took a step backwards out of its path as the light and color took the form of Dukhat. It was the last thing he expected to see. Dukhat could not have known he would come here someday, could he? No, his son must have been waiting until his ship returned to Minbari space to send it and in the meantime, kept it in a hiding place. As always, the message was made to only open for him.

"Father," began the recording. "It has been too long since we last spoke and I apologize for that."

Valen's heart constricted in his chest as he recalled being relieved that his son's messages had become less frequent once he'd become Minbar's leader. The temptation to say too much had tormented him as the day of Dukhat's death drew nearer.

"You will be pleased to know that Delenn is doing very well. She is everything you said, a brilliant soul. I favor my little cousin shamelessly, I'm afraid, but the others have come to expect it since she joined the council. I never told you about that, did I? When Delenn was inducted, I gave them something of a shock. I recalled that you'd once told me that the Triluminaries recognize our family and I went to examine them for myself. To my surprise, I discovered that particular function was disabled.

"So," Dukhat beamed mischievously as he spoke, "I reactivated it, on all three of them. Oh, you should've seen the others' expressions when the Triluminary responded to Delenn! You didn't mention it would glow," he said half chastising, half teasing. "I stayed well out of the way during that part of the ceremony. I can prevent the staff's Triluminary from going off every time I pick it up, but not someone else directing one at me."

Valen suppressed a painful sigh. He hadn't known that somehow that feature was turned off over the centuries. To think, his son's curiosity and playful nature was responsible for the Triluminary's reaction to him at the Battle of the Line and saving the entire Human race from extinction. The belief that there are no coincidences was sometimes the only thing that kept him sane.

Dukhat's face suddenly turned sorrowful, "Which brings me to the purpose of this message. I've suspected it for several months, but I am now certain that my mother was a Human. Though I only know what little information other races were willing to sell… seeing their appearance, hearing audio of their language… it is familiar to me. I will redouble my efforts to persuade the council to make contact with them," his eyes took on a burning intensity as he spoke. "Father, I beg you to break your silence in this matter. Please, tell me about my mother, about her people…. the other half of my people.

"I continue to serve and lead all Minbari, in your name. I love you, my father."

Valen's vision blurred as the hologram of Dukhat winked out. He placed a hand to his eyes, trying to stop the tears flowing silently down his face.

- o0o -

End Chapter 4

Author's Note: Thank you for your reviews everyone. Sometimes I need prodding to hurry up and write things down and reviews help guilt me into getting to it. I don't know how quickly chapter 5 will be posted. I've got a few gaps to fill to connect scenes together. I will try not to take too long though.

Preview of Chapter 5:

"I know," Valen reassured her, but he noticed she still looked stressed. Too stressed. "Something else is wrong, isn't there?"

"There have been attempts on my son's life," Delenn said with remarkable composure, her emotions carefully reined in to hide how close she was to despair. Her eyes looked tired, as though they no longer had the strength to weep. "Both within days of each other and the second… if John had not been there…" She took a deep breath to steady her voice.

"Tell me exactly what happened."


	5. They Know Not You

Valen's Return Title: Valen's Return

Author: Julie the Tall Terror

Summary: The galaxy learns that some Humans are Immortal. While greedy aliens are after the secret to immortality, the Minbari and Watchers search for a particular Immortal, Valen. Babylon 5/Highlander crossover.

Setting: 2264. The new Interstellar Alliance is still very shaky.

Babylon 5 characters: Valen (Sinclair), Delenn, Catherine, Sheridan, Garibaldi, possibly more.

Highlander the Series characters: Methos, the Watcher organization, possibly more.

You do NOT need to know anything about Highlander: the Series to understand this story and if you do, you'll just enjoy the familiar characters.

Big thanks to John Hightower for creating the Minbari Dictionary at Jumpnow.de and my beta reader Marianne Todd.

Chapter 5

They Know Not You

_"All of life can be broken down into moments of transition or moments...of revelation. _

_This had the feeling of both."_

-- G'Kar, Babylon 5: "Z'ha'dum"

- o0o -

The Valen'tha

"Master, you instructed a change in course?" asked Satai Barenn in a poor attempt to appear only mildly interested.

Although Valen expected that each of the Nine would find an opportunity to speak to him away from the others eventually, he found this visit curious. Did the council send their youngest member to ask him about this matter or was Barenn using it as a pretext for something else? Valen had never met this worker Satai before Delenn broke the council therefore he was a new addition.

"I did," he replied, looking up from the papers on the table in front of him. It hadn't taken them long to dump a load of bureaucracy on him. "Is there a reason that worries you, Barenn?"

"Yes, the people waiting –"

" – will have more time to prepare, and those further away to arrive. Unless haste was preferred?"

Barenn concealed his emotions much better this time. "Master?"

"Most of the destinations are predominately of the religious and worker caste."

"It was deemed best to travel to the highly populated worlds."

"I wonder that Shaka and Mazik did not have more say in the selections."

"The warriors are welcome to join the festivities."

"If they can get there on such short notice."

"As you say, master," Barenn conceded, bowing deeply. "This delay will give them ample time to do so."

He left somewhat apprehensively making Valen feel a little regretful for his harsh tone. Despite that he knew he was right, that they were favoring the religious and worker caste worlds, he didn't wish to antagonize the council for it. Convincing them to see sense would be better, wiser and… futile. From looking at the schedule in front of him, they'd carefully planned every detail of the journey to Minbar and left no room for anything else, not even his approval or disapproval. The times and locations were too precise to have been decided on in a matter of hours, no matter how efficient the organizers. No, just as they'd boxed him in on Babylon 5, this outline had been arranged before they'd approached him.

He knew that the council would give him some trouble. Or rather that he'd give them some trouble. His ways of doing things were not the same as modern Minbari, but like their predecessors, they would have to get used to it if they truly wanted his leadership. This wasn't a game and he wasn't a figurehead. Which reminded him of another matter to be dealt with.

He looked over at the three acolytes hovering about, all of them religious caste. He had no idea how many were actually assigned to him for there seemed to be a new group of them every time he turned around. This crew wasn't the same as the ones who'd escorted him to this room last night, nor the ones who greeted him this morning. He assumed they worked in shifts, if rather short durations. He hoped there weren't going to be many more, otherwise trying to learn their names was going to be a hassle for the next few days at least.

"Upload all incoming messages for me to this room's console," Valen ordered and waited to see which aide would take initiative first.

The nearest one spoke up at once. "Yes, master," she replied and immediately set to work at the computer by the wall. He pretended to return to perusing the papers in front of him as he waited. As he expected, within minutes she sat back in frustration and turned back to him with an imploring look before quickly dropping her eyes.

"It is all right. No doubt there have been more messages than the communications' station is able to handle," he said kindly. "What is your name?"

"Roshel of Shaoulo."

"I know of your family. A generous people named for a generous bird."

She bowed in delight at his words. Her manner reminded Valen of one of his daughters from long ago, eager to do her best and to prove herself. Yes, this one had the right personality and necessary determination.

"I'd like you to take over this task from now on, Roshel of Shaoulo."

"Thank you, master. I am honored to have such a responsibility," she answered hurriedly, as though she were afraid he might change his mind.

"The communications officers may be reluctant at first to give up what they will see as their duty," he warned her. "I'm sure you'll agree that it is not fitting for all the ship's transmissions to be hindered because they are burdened with sorting through my mail. Also, the council will have left instructions in regard to specific callers. Disregard those instructions. Though I appreciate that they feel obliged to be informed when someone of importance calls, such as Entil'Zha Delenn for example, it is unnecessary given that many are my friends only wishing to have a personal chat."

Whether she or the other acolytes caught his double meaning or not, he wasn't sure and didn't know if he really cared so long as he didn't have to deal with the council blocking his messages. He didn't want to try making calls until this was cleared up. For the entirety of his first stay on Minbar when he was Earth's ambassador, the Grey Council itself had imposed strict controls on all his communications. He'd argued strenuously countless times to gain permission to communicate to people they didn't want him to contact, such as Garibaldi and Catherine. He'd eventually resorted to sneaking messages out with his Rangers on data crystals.

A thousand years ago, he'd had complete freedom to send and receive messages, of course. Therefore, it was merely this council that was the problem. If he complained personally, the whole ship would eventually know something was amiss between them. Worse, the council might have prepared for that contingency with the same old plausible explanations as before or respond with complete obtuseness. They had successfully used both to force him to go along with it to avoid appearing irrational.

It was with some misery that he realized the Nine still saw him as the Human they'd captured years ago. Better to stop this nonsense now and quietly. No matter what orders they were given, the rest of the Minbari on this ship held his legend in too high of esteem to disobey him. It likely wouldn't occur to them to do so. By the time the council noticed, he hoped it would be done and they would be the ones with no choice but to accept it or loose face.

Valen rubbed at his tired eyes. Shipboard time was just different enough from Babylon 5's time to be a nuisance. He'd left at what was late evening there and what was midday on the ship. He'd gotten a decent amount of sleep at least having turned in early in the ship's evening, but that didn't do much to compensate for the fact that it felt like the early hours of the morning to him when he'd gone to bed. He'd barely eaten the night before due to his exhaustion.

He hadn't gotten much of a look at these rooms last night either. It was uncluttered like he preferred and typical of the Minbari minimalist style. One of those infernal forty-five degree angled beds of course, but he'd had a welder see to the tilt mechanism right away. All his belongings were here. As he expected, they'd raided his flyer thoroughly after bringing it aboard. The Minbari notion of proper behavior towards another person's property was still rather alien to him at times.

What he had noticed right away this morning was the wardrobe. Along side the handful of clothes he'd packed on his flyer were several new additions, but of much finer material. Someone at least had the sense _not_ to provide a set of the traditional robes of the Chosen One. These new clothes weren't in the current Minbari fashions, of any caste, which he knew would have been easy to obtain. Instead, they were in the Anla'shok style like the others he owned, which meant some shipboard tailors had likely spent the entire night making them. His worker caste business suit was missing, though he had to admit he wouldn't need it again.

For one awful moment, he was afraid that other items, important ones, might also be 'missing.' Just as he opened his mouth to ask an aide, he saw one of them. Tucked in a corner of a shelf on the far wall was his picture of Catherine. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief and scolded himself for thinking they'd throw it away. That completely unimportant suit probably wasn't actually gone either, but in storage. Their choice of location explained why he hadn't seen her picture there earlier. In fact, it was turned so that her face was completely hidden from the doorway and most of the room. Visitors couldn't see that he had a picture of a Human woman in his quarters. Placing the photo in his bedroom would've concealed it even better, but they likely didn't even want to think along those lines. He could imagine the ruckus finding it had caused and the resulting debate that led them to compromise placing it there.

His musings threatened to descend into misery because of Catherine's absence and he was glad to be interrupted by the odd buzzing sensation of another Immortal's approach.

"You can set out breakfast now," he told the nearest aide as he stood. "Mr. Benson is here."

The three acolytes exchanged bewildered looks with each other as they went about doing as he ordered. Belatedly, Valen realized how odd his sudden pronouncement had sounded. They didn't know he could sense Immortals and didn't know he was one himself. He'd relaxed here far easier than he thought he would under the circumstances, falling into old habits that these people didn't know.

Valen stepped through an arched opening into the entry room. One warrior stood there facing the shut door. He watched as the guard received a communication from the two guards outside in the passage and at Valen's nod, he gave permission for them to open the door. An acolyte entered with Methos at his heels.

He bowed and announced, "Mr. Benson is here to see you, master." He then stepped backward to wait by the guard.

"Come in, my friend," Valen greeted Methos and led into the sitting him to the table. "They looked after you well, I trust?" he asked as they sat down to eat.

"Oh, sure. They've got a nice kid keeping me out of trouble," Methos replied. "Judging by your reception, I'm surprised they found a free spot onboard. Second weirdest bunk I've ever seen, by the way. I did see one on the Rangers' ship, but I didn't know what it was _for_ and that room had a couch so…" He shrugged and said sardonically, "I amused the entire bunkroom for the better part of an hour falling off of it last night." He laughed at himself good-naturedly in spite of it.

"Sorry about that. Minbari feel that sleeping horizontally tempts death," Valen explained apologetically.

"So, how's your fan club?" he asked with a jerk of his head towards the Minbari assistant waiting to attend them. Jenard was his name, Valen recalled.

Valen gave Methos an irritated look. "What do you think?" he asked rhetorically.

"I've heard some odd things this morning, enough that I desperately wish I knew the Minbari languages better. My keeper," he said, gesturing in the direction of the entry room where the acolyte and the guard were, "steered me clear of the warriors, however the rest of the grapevine…"

Valen crossed his arms and abandoned eating. "Get to the point."

Methos raised one eyebrow as he glanced sideways again at the aide standing nearby. "They seem to think you were on Minbar about a thousand years ago. I thought I was hearing them wrong or was confusing the numbers at first… but I got the kid to translate it for me. I know it is _technically_ possible, but it doesn't make sense."

"Yes, I was there and of my own choice, before you get any ideas," Valen answered. He didn't want Methos to think that in the thirteenth century he was abducted by aliens, given a temporary Minbari disguise and then later smuggled back to Earth.

He briefly considered dismissing Jenard, but then remembered he was the only one to introduce himself with the morning crew and he was in charge of the rest of the acolytes. Sending him away, even to speak privately to an alien, would send a bad signal. Possibly even ruin this Minbari's career. Everything sensitive was spoken inside the council chambers, the rest of the secrets were not kept from the council's acolytes should they happen to be around.

Besides, the guard and acolyte in the entry were too close not to overhear some of their conversation. He'd had no qualms about speaking candidly of some things in front of the warriors yesterday. Hadn't thought twice about it, actually. It would be ridiculous not to accord the same courtesy to the acolytes and workers who likewise were chosen above all other Minbari to attend him like his the guards. He had no doubt that everyone onboard knew by now that Methos was an Immortal anyway. The problem was whether he was willing to let these aides find out that he was one as well? He'd just have to be careful not to make them too suspicious.

"Remember my 'extra aging' comment yesterday?" he asked finally.

Methos nodded.

"I'm about three quarters your age, not half," Valen stated. That should be cryptic enough since none of the Minbari knew Methos' real age.

"Uh huh," was the closest Methos could get to intelligent speech given how impossible that sounded. "How?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" was all he said, smiling serenely. This was one area he wasn't ready to go into detail and he didn't mind getting Methos back a little for the gossipy old hen routine.

"Oh, one more thing. There's a campaign to record every word you say," Methos said reprovingly. Apparently Methos wasn't pleased with his sudden frankness and then complete refusal to explain it. Or maybe he didn't want anyone trying to figure out how old he was in order to find out how old Valen was. "Isn't that right?" Methos asked Jenard, who gaped at him. "Well, speak up!"

"It is true," Jenard replied reluctantly under the combined weight of Methos' stare and Valen's expectant gaze.

Valen wasn't surprised at the answer and ignored Methos' warning look. He knew what he was getting into better than Methos did.

"We'll jump into Tau Ceti's system as soon as we get clearance from Earth," he said to change the subject. "Hopefully, we won't have to wait much longer in hyperspace. It's not too late to change your mind, you know."

"I'm certain," said Methos with an uncharacteristic hint of optimism. "It _is_ too late to avoid attracting attention, though some good might come of it after all. Several of my friends have taken to wandering the stars. This mess is forcing all of us home, so I may get to see them. Also, I have resources on Tau Ceti."

"Resources? On an outpost without a jump gate?"

"Oh, yes."

"I don't want to know."

The entrance of Roshel carrying a message interrupted them. Valen looked at the note she handed him and wondered why she'd written it instead of simply telling him, until he realized they were trained to be cautious of what they said around aliens. It was a pity that the Minbari gossiping in the halls weren't as discrete.

"I must see to this," he told Methos. "Try not to torment my aides while I'm gone."

- o0o -

Valen stepped quietly into the darkened room, though by the sound of things he needn't be so careful. He could have walked normally, even stomped perhaps, and they still might not have heard him over their own voices. This wasn't the Grey Council's usual chamber, but one of the other viewing rooms onboard. He'd never have located it so quickly without his new assistants' help.

The Nine were assembled under one large light facing a flattened holographic projection of the Earth Alliance leader. Their hoods concealed their expressions, but President Susanna Luchenko's face showed she was clearly irate. Valen kept to the shadows along the wall until he was behind them and observed their heated discussion.

"Why should we?" the president was demanding.

"Because he chose us, became one of us –" Shaka answered.

"If you are trying to imply that he's favoring Minbar over Earth –" she interrupted.

"Your people have given him every reason to do so!" Mazik interrupted in return. That surprised Valen. He hadn't expected either of the warrior Satai to defend him.

Again, the president tried to speak. "Why of all the –"

The council didn't let her finish, but broke out into disorganized yelling.

"You've mistreated Valen in every way you could," snapped Nur.

Bhurli began listing off offenses, "Insults, humiliation, ignoring his wisdom, outright shunning him –"

"And attempting to murder him," accused Shaka in almost a growl.

"Now that's not true," the president bellowed over the din. "None of us who know about Valen have ever sought his death. Not even Clark!"

"But you don't deny how shamefully," Zaca stressed her words, "_cruelly_ your people have treated him?"

"My predecessors had their reasons," she said defensively.

"Reasons?!" Barenn snarled, something most worker caste never did.

"Yes. The chief reason being you!" she exclaimed. "Your constant meddling in his life since the war hasn't been easy for any of us to stomach."

"You dare to blame us? You Humans," Durlan spat, "have never shown him the honor he deserves."

"He was the Fleet Admiral over our entire military during the Dilgar War. Don't tell me we've never honored Valen," the president said bluntly. "Do you know why we defended the League of Non-Aligned Worlds? Not for profit, it was quite expensive in fact. It wasn't for our own protection, though in hindsight it is obvious that the Dilgar's campaign was to conquer and wipe out the rest of the galaxy if they could. Still, Earth was in no danger at the time and unlikely to be threatened for decades at least."

"If you are going to say you did it because it was the right thing to do…" Bhurli said sarcastically.

"Not precisely, no. Before you puff yourselves up further, remember that not one Minbari lifted a finger to help those worlds," she answered. "We fought the Dilgar because Valen told us to."

"Why are we listening to this?" Mazik grumbled to no one in particular, but the rest ignored him.

"We've located very few Immortals and I admit everyone is rather in awe of them," Luchenko continued. "How else do you think we won what was not only our first real interstellar war, but also against the Dilgar's large, experienced and technologically superior fleet? Valen planned every attack, coordinated every battle, and gave us victory after victory."

Valen would've raised one eyebrow if he still had them. She made it sound as though he'd been in command of more than his troops. He couldn't take all the credit for their successes either, but supposed it shouldn't surprise him that the president was exaggerating to further her point. Especially since they were berating her for things that happened long before she took office. Her predecessors' treatment of him wasn't her fault.

"None of this is recorded in your history," Dhaliri pointed out. "Not then and not now."

"It was classified for his protection. Given the Dilgar's penchant for sending assassins to pick off military leaders, Valen was only known as the Fleet Admiral to our troops and the public never saw his face, not even when the war was over. Everything was arranged so Valen could remain an officer of any rank he chose, in perpetuity. After all, his aliases of the last three centuries are peppered with exemplary military careers, all cut short because he couldn't risk anyone noticing he didn't age. Yet, he left Earthforce anyway. He promised to fight again if we went to war, then he just disappeared.

"You wonder why Earthforce was so confident, arrogant even I'll admit, despite that our ships limped home after their first disastrous encounter with your people? It's because they knew we had an ace in the hole. They expected Valen to brush you all out of our way. As the war dragged on and you slaughtered us, fear spawned dozens of conspiracy theories. Our leaders kept going on the hope that Valen had merely traveled far away and was already hurrying home to show us how to defeat you."

That wasn't news to Valen, but it bothered him that she was telling the council. Worse, the way she was speaking was beginning to border on reverence. He hoped she knew what a dangerous gamble she was taking. Granted like all bureaucrats she was calculating how far she could use the situation to her advantage, but to play on how much the Minbari venerated his service to Minbar… If the president ever adopted an 'anti-Valen' policy after this the political ramifications would likely affect all Humans as a result.

"So, Valen refused to fight for you?" Bhurli gloated.

"No, he kept his word, just not how anyone wanted. To make things worse, you captured him. You wouldn't allow him to be told that you'd wiped his memory of it and everyone was so afraid you'd turned him into your spy, they didn't try. It couldn't be proven either way because he didn't remember," she said with a shake of her head. "Of the presidents since then, only Santiago trusted him and even Clark was so afraid of him he jumped at the opportunity to maroon Valen as far away from Earth as he could, even though it meant dumping him on Minbar.

"And now this. You Minbari have _ruined_ Valen this time," she snapped.

"Have they now?" Valen asked as he emerged from the shadows. "That's a rather dismal assessment."

The entire Grey Council turned, startled by the sound of his voice. President Luchenko leaned forward in her seat so suddenly her arm knocked over several objects out of sight on her desk. The sound of them quietly hitting the carpet of her office carried through the transmission. She didn't appear to have noticed them at all, but was staring intently at him. She didn't gap at least.

"Master," Durlan said contritely as he approached. "How?"

"Did I know you were having this meeting? A little bird told me you were taking my calls," he said reprovingly as he walked to the center of the room. "How are you today, Madame President?"

"Well enough," she answered in a slightly higher voice as she tried to recover. "And you?"

"Getting bored with virtual imprisonment," he said with a wry smile.

Several of the council members protested that in a distressed chorus.

"I can fix that," the president offered in a surprisingly genuine sounding tone.

"Thank you, but there's no need," said Valen as he glanced at the hooded figures moving to surround him in a show of solidarity. "I think they'll behave themselves better now." He turned back to the holographic image of the president and said, "To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?"

"Ostensibly, it was to do with your ship's request to enter Earth's space. In reality, I need answers. I received certain intelligence about you yesterday that I'm finding difficult to swallow," she held up a page as she spoke, "In particular, the part that you've traveled through time. Though your appearance has confirmed the rest of the report, it doesn't explain _why_ you'd do any of this." She brandished the whole sheaf of plastic sheets in agitation.

"It had already been done, therefore I had to do it. The slightest deviation from what I knew had happened in the past could well cause a disastrous future."

"Would it really?"

"Very well, let us speculate since there is nothing better to do with hindsight," he said sidestepping further discussion about his past on Minbar to get to directly to what Luchenko wanted to know. "The real issue here is 'suppose I had led our troops against the Minbari in the war?' Let's be generous and say that perhaps the war had fewer draws and defeats for us as a result. Could we have won?"

"No," she admitted grimly.

"What would've been achieved then?"

"More people would have survived."

"Would they? I think more would have died. You are forgetting why the war ended," Valen said and nodded towards the Grey Council. "They captured and recognized me. All attempts to end the war had failed and you know as well as I that we were out of ideas."

"Alright," she agreed painfully. "Couldn't you have arranged for your past self to be discovered sooner?"

"Certainly," Valen responded with false cheer. "But not by the council and no others could recognize me. I imagine the warriors would've shot me on sight and when I did not remain dead… now that's a gruesome thought. Do you see what I mean about the danger in trying to change the future?"

President Luchenko looked a little green, but she continued arguing, "That explains why you couldn't prevent the war or stop it sooner, but not why you weren't there for us the first time around. You had no foreknowledge."

"True," Valen said. He had no intention of elaborating further and derailed the conversation by saying, "I also didn't know that the Dilgar war would produce a leadership dependent on 'an ace in the hole' as you so aptly put it earlier."

"You were listening to us the whole time?" she asked, affronted.

"Oh, yes."

"Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"Because the council needed a good rant," he answered merrily.

She thought about that a moment before asking, "Valen, did we drive you away?"

"No, Madame President," Valen said reassuringly. "A few narrow-minded individuals do not have nearly as much influence as they think and they can't speak for their generation, much less an entire world."

She didn't respond to that, but she did look relieved. "I'll grant you passage through to the Tau Ceti system, of course," she finally said. "After all, you still have Earth citizenship."

Valen couldn't help but feel shocked. He schooled his face quickly, but knew that she'd seen his reaction. He couldn't decide if her statement was a good thing… or a threat. For the first time since his arrival, he was glad to be on the Grey Council's ship. Had he succeeded in remaining on Babylon 5 just a few hours longer or worse if he'd managed to leave the station to help Methos get nearer to Earth, just what would've happened? Even when he'd briefly considered the idea of letting Earth get temporary custody of him to dodge the Minbari, he expected that they'd treat him as a traitor, but knew that their fascination for Immortals would keep him relatively safe. Only Methos' warning made him completely reject the idea.

That anyone in Earth's leadership would want him outside of a prison cell was baffling. Their jealousy for the secret of immortality had never stopped them from spewing hatred at him when he was still fully Human. So, why was the president being so friendly now? To lure him home or was it a show for the council?

As they each said the appropriate farewells, Valen could hear nervous shuffling of feet behind him. Very unusual given that Minbari footwear was designed to be noiseless, they must really be rattled. The hologram winked out and he turned around to face them. Several were already in the process of removing their hoods.

"Master, why that particular Human world?"

"It is nearby and it is the request of my friend. As you are aware, he is the Immortal the Anla'shok freed from the Narns. I promised to help him get to Earth space. Now, what compelled all of you to participate in a shouting match with President Luchenko?" he asked hoping it wouldn't take too long to put out the wildfires.

- o0o -

"Valen, my boy," Methos said with irreverent cheer as they walked into the docking bay. Or rather led a parade, for several guards and aides appeared to think it necessary to accompany Valen to see him off. Now that he was leaving, and he need not fear repercussions, Methos couldn't resist the opportunity to annoy the herd of Minbari. "It's been absolute mayhem as usual."

"Far too adventurous," Valen agreed wryly.

"With unpleasant stalkers."

"Disagreeable meetings."

"And deadly."

Valen frowned in confusion at that. He didn't recall anyone dying, not by his hand at least. "Who did you kill?" he asked.

"The charming fellow who killed me first," he said still a bit irritated over it.

"I'll try to arrange a boring itinerary next time you unexpectedly drop by. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask," Valen offered the last seriously.

"Thanks, old friend. See you later."

"Farewell, old friend," he answered and shook Methos' hand solemnly. He boarded a waiting flyer and soon was gone.

Valen stood lost in thought by a window long after the flyer had flown out of sight. The smartest solution would have been for Methos to remain in Minbari space at least for a few years, if not go with him to Minbar. Though a remote spot on Earth would be reasonably safe for him, getting there would still be difficult despite how little he had left to travel. Even Human bounty hunters might try to catch him to sell to aliens or worse.

He'd been resigned to the circumstances that required he avoid anyone he knew for so long that he'd come to believe it didn't hurt anymore. He hadn't realized just how much he missed his friends until Delenn and Methos had shown up on the same day. Knowing he'd see Delenn again soon and likely Garibaldi, Ivanova, and many others he'd known so long ago lightened his mood a little. None of them were Immortals though.

"Master?" said Jenard in a whisper behind him.

Valen turned around to find several concerned faces looking at their shoes. He hadn't realized that he'd become melancholy enough to worry them. He glanced once more at the stars before turning away. There was no point in standing here. The flyer would return shortly and then they'd re-enter hyperspace. There was nothing to see or wait for.

"If it is not too presumptuous of me, could I ask… have you met many Immortals?"

"Yes, I have."

"If I may," Jenard said still hesitant but encouraged by Valen's calm reply. "Mr. Benson's demeanor indicated that he is quite old."

Though Valen could see how Jenard could easily make that leap enough to resort to leading questions to satisfy his curiosity, he didn't want anyone speculating further on Methos' age. Methos had good reason to be skittish about anyone knowing how old he was. His life was in enough peril as it was.

"Yes, though he wouldn't appreciate being referred to as 'old' by others," he chastised gently.

"I apologize, master."

"It's all right," he replied, though it bothered him that everyone was so contrite over the smallest things. He hadn't expected them to be so worried about accidentally offending him.

Roshel suddenly came around the next corner clearly searching for him. She looked anxious as though she'd hurried. "Master, there is a transmission from Entil'Zha Delenn. She is waiting to speak to you," she said.

"Good," he answered with a genuine smile.

As she led the way, she kept speeding up only to force herself to slow down each time. The look of apprehension never left her face. However, Valen was sure that if there were an emergency, she'd have said so directly.

"Is haste necessary, Roshel?"

"I'm afraid so, master… I cleared the channel myself."

"I see. If someone notices before we get there, they might close it?"

"Yes."

"You two, go ahead with her and clear away any onlookers," he ordered a pair of his guards, who bolted forward at once with Roshel. Valen knew that it would attract far too much unwanted attention if anyone saw him running down a hallway. "Pick up the pace," he ordered the rest of the entourage.

The guards were efficient, Valen saw no one the rest of the way and the entire group parked themselves outside the viewing room with the sternest of looks on their faces. He pitied anyone who came this way and suspected that even one of the Satai would be flatly refused admittance. Inside, he was immensely pleased to see a hologram of Delenn waiting patiently for there was a very real chance that the signal would be disconnected via a 'mysterious technical failure' at any time. He stepped into the single pool of light, activating the camera system. Delenn's sudden bright smile told him that it was sending his image.

"Hello, Delenn," he said informally.

She bowed her head. "Hello, old friend."

Though he noticed she didn't use his name, he didn't call her on it. "How are you?"

"Well," she said in a strained voice. "And you?"

"Managing."

"I did not help the council find you."

"I know," he reassured her, but he noticed she still looked stressed. Too stressed. "Something else is wrong, isn't there?"

"There have been attempts on my son's life," Delenn said with remarkable composure, her emotions carefully reined in to hide how close she was to despair. Her eyes looked tired, as though they no longer had the strength to weep. "Both within days of each other and the second… if John had not been there…" She took a deep breath to steady her voice.

"Tell me exactly what happened."

"The first was an attempt to sneak a bomb to David, the second was an assailant in our home. John startled him and they fought. He fled and his ship self-destructed."

"What is being done now?"

"Everything that can be done. We've doubled the guard, of course as well as increased other safety measures. The entire household is under suspicion of betrayal," she said angrily and confided, "which has caused several regrettable arguments between John and I. He tells me that his struggle with the intruder was too fast, that he never got a clear enough look at his face… yet he insists that he has a _hunch_ that it was a Minbari!"

Her vehemence was understandable. Though she didn't outright say that it was impossible for a Minbari to be the culprit, she obviously considered them to be the least likely. Valen found he trusted Sheridan's instincts in this instance as a warrior and his experience with Minbari assassins. Something Delenn thankfully had been personally spared from. Valen didn't feel he had the right to intervene, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

"John and I take turns keeping David with us at all times," she continued. "Neither of us want publicity, however we may have no choice if the Anla'shok cannot track down who is doing this. It's been more than a week now and they've found nothing."

"That isn't enough time."

"Isn't it?" Frustration clouded her voice again before an expression of shame flitted across her face. "I've occupied myself by investigating the alien assaults on Humans. There are over a hundred confirmed cases this week alone, most involving injuries. The number of murders has dropped significantly, at least. It appears the bounty hunters have learned that they can identify Immortals from mortals by wounding them. One report from the Minbari embassy on Secao is the most troubling," said Delenn. She kept her anger controlled this time.

"All of our embassies are prepared to shelter Humans, but no one has approached one… until now. Instead the Humans are presumably going to their own embassies or returning to Earth space. Yesterday, a woman inquired at the gate about speaking to the ambassador, only to change her mind hurriedly. The guards relayed the odd encounter and the ambassador sent one of his assistants to locate her."

"She was an Immortal?" Valen asked.

"Yes. The aide found her just before her pursuers did and helped her fight them off as they ran back to the embassy. The guards just did get them inside in time. Our ambassador has already filed complaints and the Secao government has promised their complete cooperation. Earth doesn't have an embassy there and she obviously knew she could seek sanctuary in ours. Why did she not do so when she was in danger?"

"Has anyone asked her this?"

"No, she was very reluctant to speak to any of the embassy staff other than a formal appreciation for their help. She refused to answer any questions or tell them her name. They are respecting her privacy. It is clear she doesn't trust Minbari," said Delenn, her voice pained.

"It is difficult for any Immortal to trust a mortal with the secret of our existence and having that secret exposed to the galaxy at large… even I'm still terrified by it, Delenn. That alone will cause distrust, but the war makes it that much more difficult for Immortals to trust Minbari."

"_More_ difficult for Immortals?" she echoed in surprise.

"You are thinking of the man you rescued and myself, but others take far longer to overcome a grudge, some never do. Seventeen years is not much time for us."

"There have been many wars on Earth where the opposing sides have pledged peace and sought friendship afterwards, even becoming allies… surely if anyone would see the similarities, an Immortal would?" said Delenn in confusion.

Valen sighed deeply. She was assuming that wisdom came with knowledge, experience and age. "I'm afraid many Immortals fought in the war. When your fleet entered our system, we knew you were coming to reduce Earth to slag. The prospect of having to watch the rest of Humanity perish knowing at least some of us would likely live... survivors who you'd then pursue and eventually find out what we were," he said shaking his head.

"But that didn't happen," Delenn pointed out anxiously "That will never happen!"

"I know, but it may be a long time before many Immortals understand that. Delenn, I tried to ram your cruiser, to destroy or damage it if I could… and I intended to die permanently rather than be your prisoner." The look in his eyes was one of lingering sadness that had never quite faded. "I don't regret failing that, but others succeeded. You point to the times in Earth's history where enemies became true allies, however that rarely happened before the warring generation died. Immortals unfortunately are often the last to accept their former enemies and some never forgive."

- o0o -

Valen thought about his conversation with Delenn often over the next few days. He had little else to do while they traveled in hyperspace. The council made more of a show of including him in their deliberations over each stop's itinerary, though all the major details were long since set. He was content to let them decide anyway for he knew full well that they'd keep with tradition and that suited him fine. He hadn't pressured them any further about their exclusion of the military worlds on their route mostly because he knew he couldn't win at this late date. So, he focused on the upcoming debate over whether he should walk among the populace on Minbar or not.

The council appeared to be putting it off despite that time was running out. Instead they settled on arguing over cosmetic details such as dinner courses and the choice of music. There was nothing unusual about the functions or guest lists they'd planned for each visit. They followed all the protocols established before and after led them thousand years ago with the exception of how he would arrive at each event. Should he – and therefore they – travel in closed vehicles to back doors or greet the crowds outside through the front entrance?

When he failed to express an opinion on this, they'd fallen back on their own policy of concealment. That was easy to do on the outer worlds and proved an excellent way of not favoring those with more temperate climates over those with harsher ones. However, on Minbar, ceremonies such as this were held outdoors to better accommodate all Minbari wishing to attend and participate. At this point, it looked like they might break from tradition and hold it under a roof, which would restrict attendance to only the highest levels of Minbari society. Valen had never excluded people based on prestige or wealth and wasn't about to do so now. If he didn't find the right words to say to the council soon…

It wasn't until the third destination, a primarily religious caste planet, where Valen had an opportunity to ask someone else about how to talk to the council. It was a typical gathering to meet the esteemed leaders and artisans. This time, there was a friend on the guest list who knew the council very well.

"Rathenn," Valen said warmly as he saw his old friend and walked across the room to greet him.

"Master," Rathenn replied with an easy familiarity, despite that it was a formal title. He bowed respectfully and Valen did the same in return. "I never dreamed I'd live to see this day."

As the greetings by this world's leadership, tours and other formalities were over with and the Nine were scattered about the reception hall, Valen had no trouble speaking with Rathenn. The attentive crowd kept a respectful distance and his ever-present guards and aides did the same. Rathenn looked older than he remembered and had a weariness about him that was not there before.

"I am glad to see you again," Valen said.

Something in the sound of his voice and his manner must have caught Rathenn's attention. "You didn't intend to return now?" he asked perceptively and slightly concerned.

"No."

"Has this imperiled the future?"

That caught Valen by surprise. "I don't believe so," he said calmly for he truly didn't know and had no desire to alarm Rathenn with careless speculation.

Though he hadn't known Rathenn as long as he'd known Delenn, they'd become friends over time. When he was assigned to Minbar, Rathenn effectively took over Delenn's job of keeping track of him and had the added burden of acclimating him to Minbari culture more than she'd been required to do on Babylon 5. Rathenn had faithfully stood by his decisions regarding the Anla'shok, even when disagreeing, and had been the peacemaker when he'd clashed with the Vorlons. Likewise, after the death of the council's leader, Jenimer, and Delenn's removal, Rathenn stood as the only shield between Valen and the rest of the council.

"Why did you not resume your place on the Grey Council?" Valen asked suddenly. "I'm only curious, my friend," he added to forestall unnecessary apologies. "You don't have to answer."

"Like many of the others, I felt that I'd failed in my duty. That the civil war need not have happened had we ruled more wisely."

"You aren't to blame, I am."

Rathenn looked at him sharply.

"I'm not saying I could have prevented it, only… there has always been friction between the castes and I only suppressed it, like capping a volcano. You and the others have done as well as you could under circumstances worse than your predecessors experienced. _They_ weren't divided from within from fighting Earth.

"Tell me, how do I talk to the council, Rathenn? Only you, Jenimer and Delenn took the time to become friends. Even Neroon would've been a welcome sight, God rest his soul, anything but this false familiarity from people who never bothered to try to get to know me. It's worse than complete strangers," he said sadly and with a hint of bitterness. "They don't know what to do with me."

"None of us ever have," Rathenn confessed. "From the moment we captured you, we were plagued with indecision. We could agree on what _not_ to do for it was easier to find excuses to wait, to delay. Even Delenn struggled at times. We knew so little," he said helplessly.

"I left as many hints as I could," Valen said, trying not to sound defensive. "What about Babylon 4? I know you recognized it and knew it would travel to the past. Did it not occur to anyone that others could use the same means at another time?"

"To suspect only," he said. "We did not know you were responsible for Babylon 4's disappearance. We were rather blind, I suppose. Though we knew that the station existed in our past, it never occurred to us that you would go with it _later_. After all, you were Human and you were posted elsewhere when it vanished. When it reappeared and you did investigate it, you only reported that those responsible claimed they were taking it to another time. That you would encounter it a second time and play a part in its travels never crossed our minds."

"Linear thinking."

"Yes. Damaging as well. Babylon 4's construction and disappearance was one of many signs and portents we'd seen happen exactly as foretold, yet you appeared to have no involvement with any of them. Your capture was not prophesied," he said, indirectly admonishing Valen for that. "By the time Babylon 4 vanished, many on the council began to doubt you would have any purpose."

"And some recommended killing me?"

Rathenn only lowered his head in the slightest of nods, ashamed for his comrades.

"And now, this council would like nothing better than to keep me in a gilded cage, yet they have no idea what they want me to do and neither do I. My guide to the future has run out."

"I do not think you ever needed it."

Valen was puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"You knew of major events, yes, but not precisely how all of them came about. That made for large gaps in your knowledge."

"Of course. It's not possible for every detail to be documented much less all survive after so many years. A few large blanks were understandable."

"But larger and more numerous than you could have known before you left. You see, only those on the Grey Council have the privilege to access certain information about you and the Great War."

"Some things, obviously. What exactly are you saying, Rathenn?"

"The first Grey Council obeyed your order to destroy personal information about you, however you did not tell them they could not replace it."

Valen sat back, a little stunned. "What the hell did they do?" he demanded in alarm and with more than a little anger.

"Only what they could from memory," Rathenn said, trying to placate him. "After you left, they hired an artist who'd seen you often to draw your portrait. They wrote down everything they could recall of the things you'd ordered erased. They searched for anyone who'd disobeyed over the years and confiscated some amateur visual recordings, but they did not destroy them. However, it is not those things that I was referring to."

"What then?"

"Your many achievements and deeds that you had no foreknowledge of, that are not in any history book, because the rest of Minbar forgot them long ago."

Valen nodded his head. "The things they didn't want to remember," he corrected.

"Yes. The council archives are overflowing with evidence that our past is as barbaric as any other race. There is so much you accomplished that has been hidden because no one wants to admit what we were. I couldn't bear to read but a ninth of the documents myself. I've heard most don't, it's too humbling. Just as well, for some expose what they've learned to their family or friends, people who take great care to record a secret whispered by a Satai and pass it on. I believe that is how rumors that you had a Minbari soul were spread, though I don't know who on the council was responsible for revealing it."

"Rathenn," he said, reproachfully reminding him, "I was born Human and I'm much older than I appear."

"Yes," Rathenn agreed with complete certainty though he hadn't asked how Valen came to even be here. "However, you do have a Minbari soul, Valen."

Valen had a sinking feeling that this was an argument he had less chance of winning than ever before and decided it'd be wiser to try to enjoy the party. Rathenn had helped show him that he should have compassion for what the Nine were feeling and going through. He now understood that the last few days they'd been worrying about what else he wouldn't agree with, while he was worried they wouldn't listen yet again. As a result, all of them had ceased discussing anything important. He simply needed to speak up. They'd never know what they did agree on if he didn't make the first move.

- o0o -

Yedor, Minbar

The procession's route through the capital was longer than Valen expected. Though he hated to be put on display, he let the council arrange it all as they pleased and they were excessively relieved that he'd agreed to it. Minbari rarely indulged in pageantry, but when they did it was on the grandest scale. They walked down the widest avenues in Yedor, yet they felt more like alleyways in such dense crowds. Balconies, windows and even a few low rooftops were packed with people.

Every time he turned a corner, the people broke out in cheers at the sight of him. They then attempted to stifle themselves in embarrassment and drop their gazes, but they couldn't remain quiet. He approached them readily, speaking to them and even returned a toddler to her parents when the child sprinted out to greet him. It wasn't like the standard politician walk on Earth of shaking hands, kissing babies, signing autographs or accepting bouquets of flowers, but it wasn't all that different either. Most stuttered, a few were bold, but all answered his inquiries of how far they'd traveled to be here, their names, and so forth.

The Nine tailed him in a clump, their shrouded faces giving them an ominous appearance. He wondered if any of them would pull off their hoods and imitate him, but wasn't surprised that they didn't. Traditionally, only the Chosen One's face was known, though none of his successors went about talking to the people. Sadly, that habit of his had never caught on. As they progressed, he occasionally waved at the people hanging out of the windows and caught several of their eyes. Holding back a laugh as best he could, Valen reflected that they were smart to choose spots that would allow them to both respectfully look down and straight at him.

Or perhaps the clever ones were the Minbari on the street. There was a great deal of surreptitious movement going on that would put an amateur slight of hand magician to shame. Good thing there were only Minbari here hiding cameras, otherwise he didn't like to think how his guards would be reacting. He knew the council hadn't banned photography. There wouldn't be any point, especially since they were broadcasting a live video of this parade to the whole Minbari Federation.

As he mounted the steps to a plaza where the Caste Elders were waiting, he realized that they might be sneaking photos because of his edict nine hundred years ago forbidding pictures of himself. If so, they were collectively disobeying or willfully reinterpreting it considering nothing had been done to stop his worker caste identity image from circulating. Which brought him to the reason he'd made that ban. Would these pictures be souvenirs or enshrined? He sighed at the prospect of having to preempt anyone from dredging up a cult again. He knew there wasn't anything he could do about video or photos in this day and age. Besides, he no longer needed to prevent the average Minbari from recognizing him now that he no longer looked Human.

The finest musicians ringed the plaza chanting along to bells, drums and harps. As he approached the triangular center where the caste elders would be presented to him, a gentle breeze caught the tiny bells adding an extra flurry of notes to the end of their song. It caused an unexpected pause in the ceremony. The resulting silence made it very easy to hear one of the elders on the far end make a loud startled cry of shock. Everyone's heads turned to look at the cause of the interruption.

He was an ancient looking Minbari, a warrior of the Fire Wings clan in a heavily decorated uniform. He struggled to move forward, his gaze fixed on Valen and he stumbled into the raised step in front of him as though he'd forgotten it was there. The other elders were appalled, but covered it well, quickly acting like nothing had gone amiss. A few of the younger members looked askance at his lack of decorum. One next to him leaned down to whisper quietly in his ear, but he paid her no mind.

"Duktuzan?" he addressed Valen in a hoarse, dazed voice.

Valen looked down at him and recognition spread across his face. "Nasinor," he said. He was surprised to find that someone he knew had become a caste elder. He wondered briefly if Nasinor had been one while he was still Human. Obviously this Minbari wouldn't have recognized him then, but he might now depending on how well he remembered his Human appearance, or how much the elders had discovered or had been told in the last few years.

The entire procession stirred nervously as Valen veered off. One caste leader's minor disruption they could ignore, but not Valen breaking away from them. He strode across the raised center to the other side and down three steps to him.

"You remember me, master?" he asked in wonderment as he slipped into the warrior language.

"Yes, I do," he replied in the same language. Usually ceremonies such as this were spoken entirely in the religious caste dialect, but this wasn't part of the ritual.

"You haven't aged a day," Nasinor said in loud astonishment. His smile vanished and his expression became grieved. "I saw you die, the whole platoon saw you die sixty cycles ago. How is this possible? How can you be both my old alyt and Valen?" he asked softly, but it carried across the quiet plaza nonetheless.

He swayed where he stood prompting Valen to reach out to support the old elder's arm. Nasinor's wavering voice suddenly became stronger as he asked, "Are you like the Humans?"

That question caused a plethora of sharply drawn breaths and faint hissing from the warriors standing nearest. He knew at least a few of the Elders thought well of Humans in general, but all of them were struggling to suppress their outrage. Valen didn't know what they would've done if he weren't standing right in front of Nasinor. He looked horrified as he realized what he'd said sounded like he was cursing Valen to his face.

Valen smiled broadly to show he wasn't insulted at all. He was certain now that the elder didn't connect him with his past as Jeffery Sinclair, but he couldn't resist traumatizing the Grey Council just a little.

"You are perceptive as always, Nasinor," he said without rancor. It calmed Nasinor considerably.

"All these stories lately, that some Humans will live forever," he said loudly, clearly desperate to explain his poorly worded question. "I didn't believe any of it. It didn't seem fair, why them and not us? But here you are." He stared even more intently at him if that were possible. "I remember when you and your son were accepted into my clan. Dukhat was just a small child then and by the time you died, he was long since grown. I suppose he knew," he was speaking in calm, measured tones as he stated facts and worked it out aloud. "He must have known. Is that why Dukhat insisted on retrieving your body alone, so we wouldn't see you return to life?"

There was no way around it he decided. "Yes, I am an Immortal," he confirmed.

He knew that the council behind him would be ready to explode if this kept up much longer. They liked to keep secrets to themselves and it had to be galling them for someone to not only figure it out, but also blurt it out publicly like this. He was surprised to find that it didn't bother him so much now. Since the council forced him out of anonymity he'd known his immortality would eventually become known one way or another. Better to answer their questions of how he was alive then to let the Minbari develop their own wild theories about it. The whole galaxy knew that Immortals existed anyway now…. it was almost a relief to have it over with.

"I've always been honored," Nasinor said, his voice beginning to fail, "to have served with you, master." He broke down in tears.

It troubled Valen to know that the sight of him had shattered this warrior's composure. It was bad enough that old age had robbed him of his physical strength, he didn't need a ghost returning to life in front of him like this. Though it hadn't been his intention, he couldn't help but feel like he'd cruelly humbled this warrior.

"I am with you to the end of time," Valen told him, quoting the last line of the Rebirth Ceremony. Though he'd created that ritual in the distant past because he'd seen it performed in the future, he nonetheless meant every word of it.

Nasinor raised his head and his tears began to lessen. He placed one heavily wrinkled hand on top of Valen's arm that was still supporting him. "To the end of time," he echoed in a strong voice and straightened his stooped shoulders, a glimmer of the proud warrior he'd been in his youth shining through.

They bowed to each other and as Valen stepped away he noticed a change had come over the rest of the warriors. Their frustration at Nasinor's outburst was gone. They looked oddly calm, not a trace of the stern formality from before was left. The religious and worker elders however looked as indignant at the interruption as he expected them to be and most proceeded to act as though it hadn't happened.

However, a few seemed almost petulant that Nasinor had spoken out of turn. The elders greeted him in trios in order of prominence and equivalent rank, one from each caste. He went through four such groups before it was Nasinor's turn and he was surprised to observe that all of the warriors were smug, the religious jealous and the workers looked like they'd lost their moment of glory.

He bit back a groan of dismay as the answer came to him. Of course, since they'd discovered him while he was a member of the worker caste, the workers would be rather proud of that. Regardless of how the worker Satai felt about him, the general population's perspective would be that Valen had favored the workers with his presence. Now, they knew he'd chosen to be a warrior for many years it shattered the worker's impression that he had a preference for them. The worst blow was the fact that he was Dukhat's father.

It was well known that Dukhat had been born into the religious caste. The story as the priests told it was a sad one, that his father had joined the warriors after the loss of Dukhat's mother. An aberration due to grief, they called it and a shame that Dukhat had grown up amongst the warriors. They'd made no serious protest while his father was alive, but as Dukhat gained prominence so did their disappointment. They said that anyone could see that the calling of Dukhat's heart was religious and claimed that he only remained a warrior because it was his father's wish. By the time Dukhat became Minbar's leader, they blamed his long dead father for taking Dukhat away from them at such a young age.

Now however, the implication was that Valen had deliberately left the religious caste to raise their greatest leader, Dukhat, to be a warrior, for Valen would never do anything without reason. What was worse is that it was the truth. He had.

No wonder the priests looked ill.

- o0o -

End Chapter 5

Preview of Chapter 6:

"Master," he sputtered in response. "You are exactly the same now as you were a thousand years ago, just as you told us you'd be. Clearly, it is impossible for your soul to have been reborn as you have not died, even more absurd to suppose you'd become a Human if you had."

"Clearly," said Valen, smiling serenely. "You never saw me when I was Earth's ambassador to Minbar."


	6. Security

Valen's Return Title: Valen's Return

Author: Julie the Tall Terror

Summary: The galaxy learns that some Humans are Immortal. While greedy aliens are after the secret to immortality, the Minbari and Watchers search for a particular Immortal, Valen. Babylon 5/Highlander crossover.

Setting: 2264. The new Interstellar Alliance is still very shaky.

Babylon 5 characters: Valen (Sinclair), Delenn, Catherine, Sheridan, Garibaldi, possibly more.

Highlander the Series characters: Methos, the Watcher organization, possibly more.

You do NOT need to know anything about Highlander: the Series to understand this story and if you do, you'll just enjoy the familiar characters.

Big thanks to John Hightower for creating the Minbari Dictionary at Jumpnow.de and my beta reader Marianne Todd.

Chapter 6

Security

_"No one here is entirely what they appear."_

-- G'Kar, "Mind War"

- o0o -

Earth orbit

Methos stretched as much as he was able given the confines of the space he was in. He'd hoped for something better, but beggars couldn't be choosers when relying on someone else to smuggle them home. An actual seat to sit on would be nice. Preferably next to the pilot for company, though under the circumstances he knew not to expect that. The kid running this ship probably would have crashed it the moment an Immortal tried to speak to him. He amused himself for a moment wondering if the pilot was always like that or if his benefactor had deliberately spooked the kid.

Upon boarding, he'd seen several folding seats attached to the wall of the forward bay. Despite that there were no other passengers, he'd been refused access to them. Certainly, it wouldn't do for him to be caught there when the ship made its various stops, but they could've let him in there while they were in hyperspace at least. He'd been treated to a lot of excuses about the difficulty in smuggling him in the first place. Yet, what the lecture really amounted to was that they didn't want him even that close to the pilot.

Ridiculous really. It wasn't as though he was going to highjack the ship. Though he couldn't help fantasizing about it after the third time they'd left hyperspace and a box snapped its tether smashing into him. This continued to plague him both before and after each of the numerous stops on their journey. Reminding himself that in future all Earth ships would have gravity, thanks to the Minbari's bribe to get Earth to join the Interstellar Alliance, was like the time he told himself soon steam powered ships would be the way to cross the Atlantic Ocean… as he clung to a storm tossed schooner.

It hardly mattered at the moment. However, that didn't mean Methos wasn't grateful to be nearly home…

Six days earlier

Tau Ceti

If it weren't for the rocky ceiling overhead, Methos could imagine he was in small village on a damp night.

No effort had been made to make this outpost aesthetically pleasing. Despite that the cavern's passages were used wherever possible to minimize digging, this place's natural features made misshapen concrete look pretty. The single road, if it could be called that, followed the cave's main tunnel. It widened and narrowed with a few slopes and symmetrically cut doorframes wherever the original holes had once been too small. Entrances to the tunnels branching off were dug larger or blocked smaller to accommodate metal doors. The only colors were in the signs that helped provide light for the passageway as well as indicate places of business or quarters.

The place he was looking for was no different than its neighbors excepting the sign, which read "Currency Union" and "Select Shipping" on either side of the door. A small town, indeed. Bank and post office in one room.

The door was open, like most of the businesses here. No weather to speak of after all. A receptionist was at a single desk busy being helpful to a couple of people. One self-serve terminal occupied the opposite wall for both currency exchange and small parcel drop offs. A receptionist was odd in such a small place. Even if a person opened the post office for only an hour a day, it would still be cheaper to deliver and pick up packages at residences. Not to mention more practical as not everyone could stop by even if it was open half a shift. Yet, the hours posted by the door showed this place never closed. The machine wouldn't break down often enough to justify keeping a friendly face at a desk all day, much less at all hours.

Yes, this was the right place.

He went to the terminal and asked it for the current credit exchange rates knowing he could peruse the list for several minutes without drawing suspicion and even request the computer read it aloud to gain more time. The variety of alien currency Valen had given him would become practically unusable once he left this outpost as few banks would accept them and all would require identification. Unlike Babylon 5, here he couldn't convert it to a credit chit without an Identacard to authorize it. There was nothing to accomodate aliens. Depositing it in one of his accounts was pointless when he couldn't withdraw it. He spared a moment to lament the demise of coins and the paper cash system.

As the couple finally left, Methos abandoned his pretense at the terminal and approached the woman at the desk.

"Good evening. How can I help you?" she asked.

"I'd like to speak to the senior Watcher on duty, if you please."

She was good, Methos had to give her that. There was no question in his mind that she didn't recognize him as Benson, however no trace of it crossed her face. Neither did his knowledge that this was a Watcher center, that she was a Watcher nor his request to see her superior so much as crease her brow. There was only a pause as she studied him. He could only suppose she was considering whether to pretend ignorance or use one of the standard lies for evading the notice of Immortals.

Apparently neither. She tapped a button on her desk without taking her eyes off him and said, "Bill, the Immortal Benson is here and wants to see someone in charge."

There was another lengthy pause before a man answered, "Understood."

The only other door in the room opened and a man with a hand resting on a sidearm entered. Methos tried not to be alarmed. Granted, the average Watcher didn't like to be spotted by an Immortal, much less have one walk in their door and verbal hostility wasn't uncommon. But it had been a while since any Watcher he'd approached had reacted with a weapon.

"Mr. Benson, I don't want to seem threatening," the man began saying, which wasn't very reassuring sounding with the way he was gripping his PPG. "But you aren't supposed to be here or even know about us."

"I do apologize," Methos said politely. No need to make an armed man nervous. "However, with the unprecedented recent events, I hope you understand that only the Watchers can help me."

That explanation didn't make him any happier, but he nodded and turned to the receptionist. "Pavarti, call Jeanette and close up the shop. If you'll come this way," he then addressed Methos.

Methos was ushered through the door and past all the various bins for the shipping front of the business. The passage continued on with numerous twists and even half flights of metal stairs where it was too steep to carve steps in the rock. They stopped in a wider section of the tunnel where a sofa, a couple of chairs and a synthetic caffe machine were set up as a break room.

"If you'd like to have a seat while we wait," was all the man said before standing back and watching Methos. His mouth was compressed in a stern line giving Methos the impression that trying to fill the time with conversation would be useless.

It was an even shorter wait than he expected before he heard quick footsteps coming. Methos stood up as woman strode into the room and went straight up to him with none of the reluctance her employees exhibited.

"Has anyone on this outpost recognized you?" she asked without preamble.

"And you would be?" he asked, ignoring her question.

"Jeannette Cai. I'm in charge of this facility."

"Indeed. You would be the regional director I take it."

She nodded, but obviously wasn't pleased that he'd guessed her rank.

He pointedly looked about the room. "Interesting choice for a headquarters. Why not Babylon 5?"

"Because the first four stations didn't survive long enough to open for business?" she said derisively. "That and stations are temporary constructs. We don't like moving house every decade."

"I suppose the fact that you were already established here made it all the easier to remain," he said in a musing tone.

She bristled at once and quickly checked her reaction as she realized that she'd just inadvertently confirmed it. He had known already, but it was better for him if she thought she'd made a mistake. She'd be embarrassed and off balance.

"I need help getting home."

"Not my problem. I took an oath not to interfere."

"You're talking to me."

"Exceptional circumstances allow me to do so if necessary to prevent the exposure of Immortals and Watchers. I'm obligated to do nothing else."

"Unless someone has seen me? Or is it unless someone has _not _that you'll be permitted to help me to prevent anyone from doing so?"

She didn't answer, but looked at the Watcher still standing nearby. "Bill, you can go. I'll yell if I need you." Bill took the dismissal well considering he still hadn't removed his hand from his holstered PPG. Methos however, was rather irritated at their continued paranoia.

Once they could talk with some measure of privacy, or as much as could be had in a rocky tunnel that echoed, Methos began speaking again. "Without your help, I must wait until the next shuttle jumps in nine days from now. Of course, wandering about that long will make being recognized inevitable… which will draw an unpleasant amount of attention to this little outpost. I'll have no choice but to be very mysterious about why I chose to come here," he threatened knowing that the Watchers feared too much outside scrutiny.

"Don't be ridiculous, no one need see you so much as that. Take a room at the inn and don't leave it."

"The customs clerk I bribed won't remain silent for long. ISN will pay well for my location."

"_That_, I can deal with. Bill," she called the man's name down the hallway. He came at a run, despite that her raised voice had been calm. "Bill, I need Mr. Paulet jailed immediately. Inform Constable Gwesh that Paulet accepted a bribe from the Minbari who landed. Suspicion of treason ought to do it."

As Bill left, Methos noticed she hadn't instructed him to send the receptionist back here to listen for potential screams for help. Not that he intended to cause a ruckus, but it was a shame no one was thoughtless enough to leave him alone near a computer in this place. Five minutes with the Watcher database would solve all his problems. It occurred to him that perhaps that was the reason they hadn't escorted him into an office. There were no computers in this break nook and he could bet the receptionist wouldn't be leaving hers unguarded.

Which meant they knew what he was capable of doing and the director trusted even a single person keeping watch would be enough to deter him. Anything he did on a computer could be undone if they knew to look for it and they would if he caused any trouble at all. They might check anyway even though he'd yet to be left alone.

She gave Methos a satisfied look as Bill left and crossed her arms. "There. By the time he is released, it will be too late for him to tip ISN off and his credibility will be ruined."

"Clever, especially as they will find actual Minbari currency on him. However, a media circus will still descend on this place unless you help me."

"What makes you think I could if I wanted to? Do you expect me to somehow sabotage all communications for you? What's a government investigation compared to news reporters? How about helping you steal a ship? High-jackers are only shot on sight, so I might live to see a jail cell. Or what about murder? I hear spending the rest of my life mopping floors after a telepath replaces all my memories is a fabulous career change. Tell me, does Death of Personality work on Immortals?"

He waited patiently as she finished her sarcastic tirade. The longer she let him stay, even if it was merely to berate him, the better his chances of convincing her. She could have simply shown him the door.

He gave her a serene smile and said, "I know of two ways. You can provide me with an Identacard or passage on a transport."

"Why not both?" she asked sarcastically. "They're equally impossible. You'll have to do it yourself."

"I can't. Nobody else on this rock will have the means of faking identification and without that, I can't get on a ship."

"You got off of one easily enough."

"But thanks to you, I won't be able to repeat it. Jailing the guy I bribed will cause a crackdown at customs, yet you can't call your constable back and say it was all a mistake. We can't let that guy call ISN. In either scenario, I can't leave here and how quickly the news media hears of it is only a difference of days. It is in your best interest as well as mine that they don't know I was here. I'd never tell ISN about the Watchers, but they'd find you all the same in a place this small. Failure to protect your secret organization from exposure won't look good on your resume. If that isn't enough, surely there must be something I can trade."

"I'd rather lose my job than my life. Nothing you could offer would be sufficient to save me, not to mention I can't verify any story you have to tell. I would be caught, make no mistake. It isn't as though I've a stack of blank Identacards where one wouldn't be missed. There are safeguards to prevent their abuse."

"You wouldn't believe me if I said I could get around that, would you?"

"Not for a second. And if you could, I wouldn't let you within ten feet of our computers."

"Very well. How about something that requires no records. Put me on a Watcher ship."

"What are you talking about? What makes you think we have a ship here?"

"Because the field agents traveling outside of Earth space have to send their assignment's latest chronicles home somehow. Data streams can be intercepted, you're too suspicious of the government to trust their post and the other cargo services can be raided. Therefore, chronicles must be delivered by hand. And as you said, Babylon 5 is too dangerous a place to store hard copies. Tau Ceti doesn't have a jumpgate, probably deliberately as you wouldn't want a lot of traffic and besides, you don't need a gate. You have your own jump capable ships."

"Interesting theory and nice that you think our organization is so affluent."

"Compared with losing precious chronicles? Or even worse is the risk of losing track of an Immortal because their Watcher had to make a detour to make a drop off. Money is no object when it comes to that. Every time a Watcher passes through this region of space you send a ship to collect their updated files."

She squeezed her eyes shut and pursed her lips in distaste. However, she was more conflicted than outright angry.

"I wouldn't need identification this way," he continued. "I know you have to smuggle Watchers sometimes. It's a rough life in the field. They can get caught at the scene of a crime their assignment committed, or sneaking through restricted areas, or run afoul of gangs. You already transport stacks of chronicles without anyone wondering where you got them or asking for a receipt of sale. Transporting the occasional person isn't all that more difficult, is it?"

"The pilot will know you aren't a Watcher. All of us saw you on the news."

"You already have to convince the two who've seen me to go along with this. What's one more?"

- o0o -

The government palace

Yedor, Minbar

"…and the rumors about Humans carrying Minbari souls will finally cease," Jenard said confidently to one of his colleagues as they stood in the hall waiting for Valen.

"Is that so?" Valen asked his chief aide. Their conversation halted as he stepped into the corridor. Valen wondered what prompted his entourage to discuss it so animatedly. Several pairs of eyes widened in alarm that they'd been overheard.

"A few years ago," Jenard explained, misunderstanding what Valen was asking, "there was some foolish speculation that Entil'Zha Sinclair was…" he hesitated, visibly steeling himself before continuing, "…was carrying a piece of your soul."

"And how is it you've concluded that he didn't?" Valen asked as he began walking down the hall at a swift pace.

"Master," he sputtered in response as he jogged to keep up. "You are exactly the same now as you were a thousand years ago, just as you told us you'd be. Clearly, it is impossible for your soul to have been reborn as you have not died, even more absurd to suppose you'd become a Human if you had."

"Clearly," said Valen, smiling serenely. "You never saw me when I was Earth's ambassador to Minbar."

"What?" Jenard barely managed to choke out.

"Oh, the details will get out soon enough," said Valen. "The council has been relying on the voluntary silence of the Anla'shok and the others who know to maintain secrecy. However, they won't have any choice but to reveal the truth once the gossip grows wild… and it will. Too many people have recognized me." He strode out of the palace to the landing pads where a ship was waiting for him, his aides trailing behind him in silence.

Valen was well aware that his words would create exactly those circumstances among his aides and guards. He didn't have a vindictive nature nor did he delight in stirring up trouble, but this had to be done. He didn't need these people to be the last to know, but calling them together to explain it personally would give it the very emphasis he wanted to avoid. The more he could tone it down, make it seem old news, ordinary… the better.

He boarded the ship with his guards, all nine were present given he was traveling outside the palace. From his seat, he saw his aides in a forlorn looking huddle on the platform. His conscience felt an unpleasant twinge at using these well-meaning Minbari. However, he didn't see much alternative. So long as the council was able to put him on display and pack him away when they were done, he was in a bind. They had to see that their efforts at keeping his Human past a secret were doomed to failure, why were they bothering to try? Why surround him with people who didn't know and keep those who did at a distance when they had to know it wouldn't work? He could only conclude that in their eagerness and haste, the council hadn't thought this through.

As his ship lifted off, he wondered what else the council had overlooked or neglected to do. If his aides were ignorant, were his guards as well?

It was the beginning of autumn in Tuzanor and a few of the trees had already lost their brilliance. Odd how most of Earth's trees put forth a great display of color, announcing the imminent death of their leaves and their coming dormancy for the winter. On Minbar, the trees' vivid beauty was constant and unvarying throughout spring and summer until one day they just faded quietly away. Few people noticed it was happening before most of the trees' foliage had completely gone.

In dull brown cloak with the hood covering his head and most of his face, Valen resembled a Ranger sufficiently that the townspeople passed politely by. A light drizzle of rain started driving them into their homes and businesses leaving him alone in the street. He hadn't been alone, truly alone, for more than two weeks. With an indeterminate number of Minbari hovering about at any given time on board the cruiser, he felt like he never had any normal privacy.

Getting into the Anla'shok base itself was no trouble with how well he knew the place. It wouldn't last long though. He was not in uniform and his face was hidden, which would draw someone's curiosity eventually. He just needed to make sure it was the right people. He went unchallenged as he crossed the main walkways and succeeded in striding past several classroom doorways without incident before he finally found the one he was looking for. He continued forward without turning to look inside and was pleased to hear the instructor falter in his lecturing. Valen walked slowly outside into a nearby courtyard. Only the faintest of steps on the stone pathway told him he was indeed being followed.

"Entil'zha," Turval said in a voice straining not to be overheard by anyone else.

Valen stopped and turned around. He held out one palm in a formal greeting of friends. Turval's face was composed as he did the same, yet his hand was shaking. They bowed to each other.

"Sech Turval, I was looking for you. I'd hoped to see you and Durhan today."

"He is at the obstacle course," he answered.

Turval stubbornly kept one pace behind Valen during the short walk, as he'd always done.

"I'm sorry I didn't make time to speak with you at the ceremony in Yedor." It truly hurt Valen that he'd had no way of changing that in the line up. Even after all that had happened, the council still undervalued his Rangers. Worse, with their change in mandate making them a branch of the Interstellar Alliance and the inclusion of aliens into their ranks, the council treated them like an outside organization.

"Apologies are unnecessary," Turval said graciously. "With the exception of Delenn, the rest of the Anla'shok present were too far back in the crowds for you to see us. It is good that others had the opportunity to meet you yesterday for it's unlikely they will again nor that they would be privileged with a visit or your residency. Will you be returning to your house here?"

"Not at this time."

They'd reached the edge of the course's racing track. Durhan was standing prominently to one side, partly to evaluate the trainees' speed to determine likely candidates for denn'bok instruction and partly to spook them as they neared the end of their run. He lost all interest in staring down the trainees the moment he spotted the two of them standing across the way. Durhan barked orders to another of the teachers without looking away from Valen and Turval. There was nothing particularly unusual about Turval walking around the complex with a cloaked figure, many dignitaries wore a hood when visiting and the threat of more rain made it even more natural.

Yet, Durhan fairly stomped toward them saying loudly for the benefit of those in earshot, "Turval, your delight in bureaucracy never ceases to amaze me. No doubt you have a mountain of papers for me to sign. Lead on." He waved his arms in exasperation, appearing to all as though he'd rather do anything else.

Once the three of them rounded the corner however, he grasped Valen by the shoulders and said joyfully, "I knew it was you. Just like before the war, when you'd stop by to speak to the trainees… I _knew_."

"Durhan, show some decorum," Turval said in disapproval.

"It's alright," Valen said. Durhan wasn't as reserved as most Minbari and having taught Valen how to fight with a denn'bok entitled him to more familiarity. "It's good to see you, Durhan." He looked at both of them intently. "I never thanked both of you or told you how proud I am of all you've accomplished. Though I was here only a cycle, I couldn't have managed in the past without your friendship and instruction."

Turval wordlessly accepted his gratitude with a humble bow. Durhan gave a hearty laugh and said, "All of Minbar is forever in your debt. We are always at your service, Entil'zha." Durhan beamed at him as they walked into a deserted courtyard. "The rumors going around about your age and the string of aliases you've used over the years have disrupted all my classes today," he said in his typically blunt fashion and ignoring Turval's warning look asked, "Is your birth name Valen?"

"Yes," Valen answered with a laugh.

"And all those times we invoked your name in front of you…" he trailed off, half amused and half embarrassed.

"It was unsettling on more than one occasion," Valen admitted. "Though I did find it entertaining sometimes to share the same name as one of your historical figures. Well, until I discovered it was me, that is."

"When did you know?" Turval asked with the eagerness of a child, which was quite a sight on such an old Minbari.

"After I received a letter from myself. I felt rather dense then, though in truth I couldn't have guessed. I didn't have enough pieces of the puzzle, unlike the Grey Council."

"I know you did not always agree with the council," Turval said. "However, they are not accustomed to letting secrets go."

Durhan was less polite and asked, "Are they still causing trouble?"

They both could sympathize with him for they'd had their own problems with the council in the past. "It's something of a balance of derogatory possessiveness and proud distain for the moment," Valen finally answered.

"Same as always then," Durhan said gruffly.

"Tell me of how the Anla'shok are adjusting to their new duties," he said.

The teachers began relating the latest events and changes to the Rangers, both large and small. Valen was going to talk to Delenn later, but he wanted to hear their perspective as well. The Anla'shok were his dream for the future. Their camaraderie, forthrightness and loyalty to each other regardless of caste were what Minbar needed and Humans as well. Though he could honestly say that his homeworld wasn't any better than any other, somehow being around Humans made the Minbari re-evaluate what they were doing and recognize that they could do better. Now, if only being around Minbari made Humans try to improve themselves more instead of either falling into an imitation syndrome or reactively behaving more different.

Durhan had just finished relating the recruitment of the first aliens into the Rangers, in which Valen noticed he didn't include Humans when he said aliens, when movement overhead caught their attention.

They all looked at an upper passageway that stretched across the courtyard connecting the buildings together. Three very nervous looking Anla'shok were moving in a definite search pattern. One spotted him and gestured silently to the other two before speaking into a communication link. The other two climbed over the rails and slid down a supporting column quickly followed by the third. They stood in formation as they approached and bowed to Valen.

Only once they came closer was it apparent that they were not Anla'shok. They wore the uniform, but there were subtle differences in their attire and attitude that gave them away if one knew what to look for. Valen expected that any of the teachers and graduates would be put on their guard at once had these three stayed too long in any one place or spoken to anyone.

Turval was already tensing suspiciously and Valen put a hand on his shoulder to calm him. Durhan however had clearly realized they weren't a threat, if not recognized them by sight. Durhan was warrior caste before joining the Anla'shok and as master denn'bok instructor, he taught the best warriors of all the clans.

"They are my guards. We've had a drill today," Valen told Turval before looking back at the trio and asking them, "Where are the other six?"

"Waiting outside the base for orders," the guard leader, Alyt Bretann, answered.

Valen nodded in approval. "Nicely done. You acquired the Anla'shok uniforms by dignified means, I trust?"

"Yes, master," he answered and then at Valen's expectant look added reluctantly, "A laundry."

Valen tried not to look too amused. At least they'd had the sense not to ambush anyone to snatch a disguise. "Did anyone notice you?"

"No one."

Durhan began sputtering faintly beside him. That didn't bode well for the Anla'shok currently on base.

"I'm very pleased. Though the boots would have eventually given you away, you made such good time no one had a chance to take notice," Valen said. It was a small thing given footwear was not found in the laundry, but he couldn't help pointing out something lest they grow overconfident. He needed them to maintain their discretion the next time he slipped away from them. Not that they needed to know that he would. Better that they only know he was evaluating their skills in locating him should he be in danger.

It didn't last as long as he would've liked, but he'd learned enough on this little excursion. He reluctantly bid the Anla'shok teachers farewell. He had another surprise visit to make.

- o0o -

John Sheridan stood in the atrium to his office and wondered why Valen had showed up unannounced like this. Valen was supposed to have lunch with his family in an hour, a social visit to talk and meet David. He wouldn't have any warning at all if one of his aides hadn't found out that Valen's flyer had arrived in Tuzanor earlier in the day.

The doors opened and Valen strode into the passageway with confidence, nodding slightly to a pair of Minbari as they stepped backwards out of his path and bowing low. Before the doors shut, he caught a glimpse of a pair of massive warriors standing like a barricade outside.

It baffled him at how calmly Valen tolerated the awe of the Minbari. He supposed that after spending nearly a century leading them, he was probably long used to their custom of bowing. Yet the furtive stares had to be unsettling, especially from those who knew Valen when he was Human. Just thinking about how that would feel made Sheridan self-conscious.

He wondered if it had something to do with Interstellar Network News announcing that a Minbari claimed to be an Immortal. They'd gone on the air with it only a few hours ago, just a short piece about Valen's life. Despite that they had little to go with beyond summaries of Minbari history and a demand that Valen prove he was Immortal, it didn't stop their speculation from running rampant. As usual, the Minbari were very disturbed at the level of curiosity being displayed by Humans. The Grey Council itself had protested to Earthgov and the Interstellar Alliance. They weren't pleased to be reminded about the right to free speech they'd agreed to when joining the Alliance. Earth's reply was just rude enough to make the council angry. Not that they could do anything about it.

So much for Valen's return helping to bring 'the two halves of their souls together' as Delenn kept going on about.

As he stepped forward to greet him, Sheridan suddenly felt at a loss for words. Just what was he supposed to call the guy? Not 'Entil'Zha,' that was Delenn's title now. He wasn't an ambassador or a commander anymore either. He couldn't say 'Sinclair,' not when he wasn't sure who around here knew about that and besides, that apparently was one of Valen's many aliases. He suspected that his awe-struck Minbari staff standing in a row would take offense if he was too informal and simply called him 'Valen.'

"Mr. President," Valen greeted him. He held out his hand.

"Ah," Sheridan began awkwardly as they shook hands. He wished he'd thought to look up whatever title the Minbari had given Valen a thousand years ago. He then wondered if it was the Grey Council title of Satai, but he didn't think that was right either.

Valen solved the problem for him. "'Jeff' is fine. Various forms of 'Geoffrey' became my favorite names after I left Rome. It's nice it has remained relatively modern."

Sheridan smiled and said, "Jeff, then. Please, come into my office. Since Roman times, huh?"

"Yes, my name was too obviously Roman and where I was traveling, Romans were not popular."

"Of course, your name is Latin."

"It was a very common name at the time, like 'John' still is today. More so now, I would think," he said looking significantly at Sheridan.

"Yeah, I guess," he answered, suddenly troubled. "I've gotten letters from people, telling me they were naming their kid after me, first after the Earth/Minbari War, then again after freeing Earth from Clark. Even a few Minbari have done it. Well, actually they combine 'John' with a Minbari sounding syllable. Anyway, what I'm trying to say… or ask…" he paused and sighed. "How do you deal with all the bowing and scraping without becoming an egomaniac or go crazy?"

"Its hardly a new concept for you."

"Sarcasm aside," he grumbled. "How do you cope? I don't mean with the sycophants or your staff or troops, but rather with nice ordinary people? The ones with questions, with ideas, or someone trying to give me a report for the first time… only to fall apart when they meet me. I hate being on a pedestal and it scares me that some people want to put me on one."

"You've watched Delenn handle it."

"Yes, but she was Grey Council for years and I expect being religious caste helped, too. Anyway, since you've managed with worse for longer than either of us…" he said, his voice trailing off.

"When you were a kid," Valen began abruptly. "Who did you want to be like?"

Valen's reply seemingly had nothing to do with what he'd asked, but Sheridan had experienced similar responses from Kosh, Lorien and even Delenn on occasion.

"My dad," he answered with a large grin.

"Me, too."

Sheridan gave him a curious look. It was difficult to imagine someone so old having parents or what those people would be like so long ago. Valen caught his expression and smiled in understanding.

"I was raised by a Roman imperator and his wife," Valen explained. "My adopted mother found me on her way to market. It was Roman custom to abandon unwanted infants in public places for anyone to take. Most became slaves. I became a son." He gave Sheridan a piercing look. "Remember who you wanted to become and what you were and you'll do fine. That's what I always tell myself, anyway," he confessed, a glimmer of uncertainty showing through.

"It's hard for you, too," Sheridan stated a little surprised, but also relieved.

"Yes, you see the Minbari didn't always behave like this. The past was… how can I say it… very much like home, warts and all."

Sheridan laughed with him, completely understanding that. There was a long pause as the small talk died and he finally asked, "What brings you here?"

"I'm skipping the Grey Council and Minbar's representative in the Alliance by talking to you about this," Valen began apologetically. "But I'd really like to know your opinion on the whole Immortal situation, straight up."

Sheridan nodded. It was something of a relief really to be able to talk to someone without doing the diplomacy dance or worry that voicing your suspicions and concerns could be used against you later. "Depending on how Earthgov's next dialogue with Narn goes, the ISA will have to consider stepping in, but I doubt there will be enough votes to actually do anything. Delenn expects the Grey Council to threaten sanctions against the Narns for kidnapping an Immortal, despite that the victim refuses to testify. I think like us, Minbar will just blow a lot of hot air."

"Do you think the Narns will realize they aren't going to go through with any of it?"

"It doesn't matter if they do or not. They know if Earth decides to go to war, they can't protect themselves and no matter how fast the ISA moved to stand between them, they'd still get hit badly at least once. They can't afford that. In the next day or two, they'll either say they have the corpses of those responsible or send a likely scapegoat for Earth to put on trial. It depends on Earth's temperature."

"How is everyone else responding, particularly the Centauri?"

"The Centauri are thrilled. It's a free show for them. With their new policy of isolation, they won't try to take direct advantage of the situation. Most of the rest of the races are on edge. I can't tell if they are hoping they won't get caught exploiting Immortals themselves or if they are afraid of being accused falsely of it."

Valen nodded. "What happens to the Narns will determine everyone else's policy."

"How are the Minbari _really_ reacting? All I get is the official story, Delenn is very uncomfortable and evasive when I ask."

"They seem to be embracing Immortals, if for different reasons. The religious caste sees a replacement for the Vorlons. The workers are waiting to see what is going to happen, as usual, but in a positive way. The warriors see power and an acceptable reason to respect some Humans. They find it easier to stomach the idea that the warriors they lost in ground combat and in space might have died honorably against an Immortal of equal or superior strength. After all, claiming that every Minbari death was due to ambushes or lucky shots also means believing weaker opponents defeated them. Giving Immortals the credit erases the clans' embarrassment."

"Just so long as the Minbari don't start trying to say Immortals aren't Human or are better than Humans and start dropping us mortals from their social calendar."

"I agree."

"There is something else, isn't there?" Sheridan asked after a pause. "What is it you don't want Delenn to hear?"

"I believe I know who is responsible for the attacks on your son," he answered and held up a hand. "But I don't have evidence yet."

Sheridan strained to maintain his composure and in a hoarse voice asked, "It is the warrior caste, isn't it?" It was both painful and a relief that someone else shared his suspicions, but he couldn't help but be a little skeptical. Delenn was adamant it couldn't be Minbar. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, the Wind Swords clan to be specific. They are good at covering their tracks, but it fits their mode of operations. I just need proof."

It sounded like he had a grudge. Sheridan wasn't being judgmental, it was only that Valen's demeanor was that of a man struggling not to hate and it worried him.

- o0o -

Delenn made no comment when Sheridan arrived home accompanied by Valen. He had no doubt she knew more than he did about Valen's movements around the city today. Everything was ready for the greeting ceremony and all the proper members of the household were present, which was more people than he'd realized worked in his home. Only David, the Anla'shok on guard duty and the lesser ranking members of the staff were elsewhere inside the house as per custom. As much as Sheridan loved to see his wife sparkle, he was relieved that the ritual was short.

They were now in the sitting room waiting for Delenn to fetch David. The Minbari were practical when it came to young children and therefore didn't require formality when meeting toddlers.

"So, who does David favor?" Valen asked. He'd never seen him for photos of the children of dignitaries weren't published.

"He's the spitting image of me," Sheridan said proudly. "The doctors were worried that he wouldn't be healthy, that he'd end up dying in childhood from complications as he grew. But he's turned out great, better than what the chrysalis machine did to Delenn even." He paused looking speculatively at Valen and asked, "What is it like? I mean, Delenn has told me about what a challenge it was for her..." Sheridan left off unsure if he'd get an answer or not.

"It's as challenging as being altered by a First One and carrying a Vorlon around inside yourself, I would suppose," Valen answered.

"How do you know about that?"

"An invisible change does not make it unknowable."

"I see where the Minbari learned the fine art of inscrutability. And here I'd been blaming the Vorlons," he mumbled.

He was interrupted by the sound of footsteps and quiet giggling before Delenn walked in carrying a squirming little boy with a shock of dark hair. Sheridan's face lit up as he said, "And here is our son, David."

"David, say 'hello,'" Delenn told him encouragingly. He bashfully turned his head to her shoulder without speaking.

"Hello, David," Valen greeted him.

David showed he'd inherited his father's smile with a huge grin, showing off four tiny teeth.

"He's got most of the basic words for his age down, but he gets shy sometimes," Sheridan explained. At that moment, David flung himself forward toward Valen, reaching out both arms. Delenn hastily tightened her grip on him as both men moved closer, ready to help if she needed it.

"Would you like me to hold you, David?" Valen asked. The baby held out his arms again.

"Not shy now, are you?" Sheridan commented as she handed David over to Valen.

"He is big and has a strong grip," Valen added as he stopped David from yanking on his earlobe. "He must be growing well."

"Yes, very well, better than the doctors hoped. He appears fully Human," Delenn explained and began listing out her son's Minbari features. "But he has cerulean markings under his hair as I do and he has thin bone nubs at his temples under the skin, almost unnoticeable."

"Are they growing?"

"Yes, but far slower than a full Minbari. The two halves of the bone may even join at the back of his head someday, though it would likely take half a century or more, if it does at all." She pointed it out on David's head and ruffled his tuft of brown hair. "That is good. Otherwise it would be most unpleasant for him. However, if the bones do join, I am concerned that the crest will continue growing and break out of his skin along the entire ridge some day."

"That is interesting," he said and intently examined David's features.

"Some minor surgery may be necessary at that time as it would be quite painful otherwise. He would no longer look Human, but appear as I do if that occurs."

"Not exactly. David would look Minbari."

"How?" She blinked at him in surprise.

"If the doctors' estimation is correct, by that age David will probably be bald."

"I have noticed that some men, such as Mr. Garibaldi, gradually cease to grow hair. But John has not," she said looking inquiringly at her husband who shrugged in return. "Though your father has," she said to him referring to David's namesake.

"Baldness is very likely when it runs in both families and in David's case, even more so."

"So he could look wholly Minbari someday?

"Except for his eyebrows, yes."

"David will truly be Human and Minbari, in every way," she said in wonder.

"I heard from Garibaldi the other day. He'll arrive next week for a visit. I'd love it if you could come to dinner while he is here," he invited them. "I'd hoped Susan could come as well, but I suspect Earthforce's bureaucracy has conveniently lost my message to her."

"Hmm, maybe I can lean on them a bit," Sheridan offered and then frowned suddenly as a thought occurred to him. "Lunch should be ready by now," he murmured in surprise.

Delenn glanced at the timepiece on the wall and frowned before meeting John's eyes. They didn't say anything more, though Valen could see that they were embarrassed and confused by their staff's lack of punctuality. It could be merely a delay after all even with the most careful planning things could always go wrong. However, the household had undoubtedly spent days preparing for his visit. It wouldn't surprise him if they'd cooked duplicates of everything to insure that if an error was made in one there would be a back up ready.

"I'm sure we can find a way to keep David occupied while waiting," said Valen pleasantly to disguise his growing uneasiness. "Do you have a viewing room nearby?"

"Yes," said Delenn as she led the way out into the hall. Valen glanced over at his guards, Kordar and Torsival, who'd taken posts there. They were alert, but undisturbed as they followed him. He walked quickly, causing Delenn to speed up and putting Sheridan on edge. They saw no one else in the corridor, not a single aide was standing by. Valen wondered if he was being paranoid, just because the council swamped him with assistants didn't mean Sheridan and Delenn lived like that.

When they reached the door, Valen stopped and addressed the guards trailing them. "If you or the others see me elsewhere in this house," he gestured where they'd just walked. "Inform me immediately, I'll be inside this viewing room."

"Yes, master," they said in unison and stood along side the door.

"Does that happen often? You being in two places at once?" John asked, trying to school his face and failing. He was growing nervous and it showed.

"I try not to make a habit of it," replied Valen in kind as he stepped inside, but gave no further explanation. He saw no point in alarming them, even if his suspicions were correct it would make no difference if he warned them. He reminded himself that his talent for hunches was nothing like Garibaldi's, he was probably completely wrong.

One light turned on in the center of the darkened room automatically as they entered. "All on," Valen commanded and the entire room was filled with light revealing only dull grey walls. "Show the stars." The room's holographic system dimmed the room slowly down to a view of the darkness of space outside of Minbar.

"Why did you want us to come here?" John asked warily.

"David likes the stars," Valen answered in between pointing out stellar systems to the toddler in his arms.

"Yes, he does," Delenn confirmed in almost a whisper as she watched her son laughing.

"Master!" Alyt Bretann's voice came from Valen's link. "A Minbari with your appearance is reported walking on the terrace."

"Disable his changeling net," Valen answered into his link. "That was quicker than I expected," he said to John quietly.

"A changeling net?" Delenn exclaimed in horror and glanced at her husband before looking back at the door and tensing for fight.

John stood between her and the door, ready to protect all of them. "We'll find out how they got in. They won't be able to do it again," he said, trying to reassure her. The look on his face promised dire consequences for the guards though.

"It's the only type of impersonation thorough enough to fool both scanners and people," Valen reminded him in defense of those running their security. "The attackers had to resort to a changeling net next or abandon stealth all together."

"Master," Bretann said over the link, "the intruder is restrained and the Anla'shok have secured all exits."

"Good. Follow procedure."

"Yes, master."

"If you knew," said John, giving Valen a shrewd look. "Why didn't you just say someone was disguised as you?"

"And be suspected of being the one in disguise?"

"I would know it was you," said Delenn firmly.

"I'll take care of this," Sheridan told them before storming out of the room.

Delenn took two steps after him and paused torn between going with him and staying behind with her son. David had gone silent when their voices had turned anxious and angry. He had a worried expression on his face, but he wasn't frightened anymore now that they were calmer.

"I'll look after David," offered Valen.

"Thank you," she said hastily in relief and then turned to her son. "Daddy and I will be right back," she explained to David and gave him a kiss on the cheek before hurrying to catch up with her husband.

David made a small huffing sound and frowned.

Valen looked at him sympathetically and said, "I know exactly how you feel. I wish I were going to take care of the trouble myself, but the guards won't let me out until the bad guy is safely removed. That's why I brought you in here. No windows, only one door and it isn't where they'd expect us to be like the dining or sitting rooms." Valen tickled the boy, making him laugh. "I've missed this so much," he said to no one as he gazed fondly at the toddler.

A garbled, strangled sounding voice came over Valen's link before it made a distinctive hissing sound that meant it was being jammed. He turned it off just as there was a shout and a loud thudding sound outside the room.

"Begin crystal maintenance now," he ordered the room. The holographic projections shut off at once and the faint noise of the machinery in the ceiling faded away leaving everything completely dark.

"David," he whispered. "Be very quiet. We are hiding." He felt the toddler bury his face against his shoulder and whimper a little. Valen wrapped his cloak around the boy the better to help him blend into the darkness and to muffle any other sounds the child made.

He backed up until he found a wall and pulled out his denn'bok. The sound of it opening made David jump, but he remained silent. The entrance to the room slid open cutting a path of light across the floor. For a moment, the silhouette of a Minbari paused in the doorway making Valen long for a PPG. He could have taken the assassin down easily with one shot. Still, he was confident he could deal with one warrior in the dark and protect David from harm.

A second silhouette joined the first making Valen's heart sink.

"Light," a harsh feminine voice commanded the room and then cursed when it remained dark.

Valen didn't need to hear an unfamiliar voice to know immediately that these two weren't his guards or the Anla'shok. He tensed waiting for his chance. If they split up to either side of the room, in the darkness he could make a run for it. His back would be vulnerable as he waited for the door to slide back open, but it would be enough to shield David.

However, the second one didn't move away from the entrance, instead he kept the door open providing them with light. He realized that they meant to force him into view. The first would patrol the shadows and whether she found him or he attacked her, the second assassin would take him down and murder David. It meant that one of them would likely die, but then the last attempt had become a suicide mission, too.

The first assassin began to circle the room starting much nearer than Valen liked. She used her denn'bok to probe the darkness without having to step too far into it. He wished he could slide further away to buy himself a few more seconds to prepare and think, but that is what they were expecting him to do, allow himself to be herded into easy striking range for both of them. He knew neither of the assassins' eyes would adjust enough to see in the dark yet, so they'd rely on sound and feel.

She swung in a pattern, first up high at shoulder level and then down low at the knees. If she failed to graze the wall on the first slash, she swung further on the second to be sure she wasn't leaving a gap. He'd have to duck her upper swing, but if he dodged the second swing, she'd hear him. He half crouched against the wall and prayed that she'd it the wall loudly enough that the sound would cover his footsteps as he moved sideways out of range.

He could feel David's little heart racing in competition with his own. He had no choice but to stand at an angle so that David was as far away as possible from the nearest warrior and his right arm was free to fight. However, this left his back exposed to the other warrior who would attack as soon as he knew where Valen was. He couldn't win and wouldn't be able to save David.

The assassin by the door suddenly bellowed in pain and was pulled back into the hallway by a guard who'd recovered enough to grab the assailant's ankles and topple him. Valen took the chance he'd been given and knocked the wind out his attacker while she still couldn't see him. He then sent her weapon flying out of her hand and finally swung his denn'bok at her neck. She collapsed and was still. He ran past her and through doorway to find the other assassin struggling with Kordar on the floor.

When he reached them, the assassin had just pulled his clawed glove out of Kordar's abdomen and was raising it to stab him again. Valen swung his denn'bok at his arm to stop him. The assassin dodged and the pike continued around grazing his head bone instead. He rolled off the guard and flung himself at Valen's middle before Valen could pull out of his swing. Valen barely managed to twist in time to take the strike meant for David.

Valen bellowed in pain as the knives sunk into his side. He brought his elbow down trapping the assassin's wrist and flipped his denn'bok straight into his face. It was a weak blow in close quarters and Valen could feel him scrabbling with his other hand, trying to reach David anyway. He kicked the assassin as hard as he could, knocking him back to the floor and he grunted as the knives were ripped out of him. He almost lost his balance costing him precious seconds.

Valen used his longer reach to keep him at bay, but so long as he continued to dodge, they were at a stalemate. However, it also gave Valen's wound time to finish healing and to notice blood was trickling down one of his opponent's legs. Apparently, Kordar had managed to do more than just trip him. It gave Valen hope that he could win this.

"I would die to protect this child," he said through gritted teeth. He didn't believe there was any sense of compassion for children that he could appeal to and these warriors couldn't have any respect for him since one had impersonated him to get the trio into the house. Yet, perhaps there was some lingering emotion or rational thought left that might make him hesitate. He watched intently, looking for any sign of doubt in the assassin's eyes, but he remained impassive.

Valen feinted to the side, driving him in the opposite direction then spun his denn'bok around, making the assassin step backwards to avoid it. Despite that the tactic succeeded in forcing him to put most of his weight on his injured leg and then use that leg to twist away, it didn't appear to hinder him.

"Do you truly wish to kill me?" Valen demanded in a thunderous, intimidating voice and he lunged forward.

The assassin retreated rapidly as he expected and stumbled over the other guard, Torsival, lying prone on the floor, alive or dead Valen didn't know. Valen slammed his denn'bok into the assassin. He had no time for finesse and didn't want to risk hitting the guard's body, so he used his pike as a club to bludgeon the assassin. Yet, still he tried to get up.

_Valen swung again, harder this time, but also trying not to jostle the baby in his other arm. They'd had no warning otherwise Catherine would've gotten the children out in time or hidden at least. If she'd known they were coming, he wouldn't have found the bodies of his eldest daughter and son in the yard… wouldn't have found Catherine lying in the doorway to their home with a knife in her chest and a warrior standing over her. He'd knocked that one down hard on his way to the nursery, but wasn't sure if he'd killed him or not. So, he had to be certain this second one he'd caught by his new baby girl's crib couldn't get back up in case he had to face the first warrior again. He paused a moment, watching carefully for any sign of twitching or breathing, praying that he was finally dead. He could feel the warmth of his baby's blood soaking his shirt and knew that she was going to die. He raised his arm to strike the murderer again._

"Valen!" shouted a hoarse voice.

Valen looked back, puzzled to see another warrior lying on the floor behind him. For a second, he was confused. He knew this one was his guard who had helped him by attacking the assassin in the doorway earlier, but he also knew that he had arrived at his home alone and had fought alone. He realized dimly that Kordar had been yelling at him for some time.

"Master," Kordar said more formally and in a calmer voice this time. "He is dead."

- o0o -

Author's note: I deeply apologize for not posting this chapter sooner. As you can see, it overlaps into the next chapter and hinges on the chapter after that, so it had to be carefully looked over. On a happier note, chapter 7 is done and being checked for typos. :) Likewise, chapter 8 is mostly written. So, it won't take so long to post the next two parts.

Preview of Chapter 7:

"If that is true, why didn't he stay down and fake unconsciousness instead of helping me?"

"I've no doubt his performance was quite convincing. He _appeared_ to come to your aid so as to get nearer. In close fighting you couldn't possibly see every move and you would trust him. Kordar could have accidentally tripped you, or perhaps appear to be fooled by a feint, or hesitated at seemingly the wrong moment leaving your left side vulnerable… and the child would be dead. Possibly you as well, without ever knowing you were betrayed. If the rest of the guards had not arrived…"

"Shaka," Valen interrupted ruefully. "You and Mr. Garibaldi would get along splendidly."


	7. Saving Face

Title: Valen's Return

Author: Julie the Tall Terror

Summary: The galaxy learns that some Humans are Immortal. While greedy aliens are after the secret to immortality, the Minbari and Watchers search for a particular Immortal, Valen. Babylon 5/Highlander crossover.

Setting: 2264. The new Interstellar Alliance is still very shaky.

Babylon 5 characters: Valen (Sinclair), Delenn, Catherine, Sheridan, Garibaldi, possibly more.

Highlander the Series characters: Methos, the Watcher organization, possibly more.

You do NOT need to know anything about Highlander: the Series to understand this story and if you do, you'll just enjoy the familiar characters.

Big thanks to John Hightower for creating the Minbari Dictionary at and my beta reader Marianne Todd.

Chapter 7

Saving Face

_"No matter how great the loss, it is not our way to let a single clan dictate Minbari policy."_

- Delenn, "Legacies"

- o0o -

Tuzanor, Minbar

Valen looked back at what remained of his attacker's face and lowered his denn'bok. Dimly he became aware that he was holding a screaming David Sheridan, not his dying daughter from long ago and it was David's tears that were soaking his shirt. The only blood was his own and splatters from the assassin.

"How badly are you wounded?" he asked Kordar over the baby's cries. He tried to simultaneously to listen to his reply, check Torsival for signs of life, calm David, not drop his weapon in case of another attack, and call for help on the link. He failed to accomplish any of it.

As he fumbled for his link, the rest of his guards, several Anla'shok and medics came around the corner at a run. The healers went to work at once. To his relief they roused the guard at his feet, while another took David from him. He waved away the healer that moved to examine him. His guards were in bad shape, but to his experienced eye, their wounds now that he could see them did not look immediately fatal. The assassins had taken care to aim for disabling and less potentially lethal wounds. Why they'd restrained themselves from killing other Minbari, obeying a law he instituted, especially as they'd likely participated in the civil war, Valen didn't know. Or perhaps it was because of the civil war that they were taking such care to not kill the guards, perhaps to make a point in their own twisted logic.

"Master, the Anla'shok are removing the impersonator to their base for questioning," Bretann reported. "I must return you to the palace now."

Valen nodded. "Check their wrists for bombs," he ordered as he watched the other assassin's corpse being carried out of the viewing room.

Bretann gestured to another guard to carry the order out and waved two others to accompany him in escorting Valen to his flyer. No one asked why he suspected bombs or why he thought they'd be in their wrists only. They obeyed.

Valen was quiet the entire journey back to Yedor. His guards asked no questions, though Bretann frequently stepped into the cockpit to answer hails. He regretted not insisting that he speak with Sheridan and Delenn before leaving. Though he left feeling certain David was unharmed, by the time they landed doubt had begun to creep in and he replayed the fight over and over in his mind. Could he really be sure he knew exactly what was happening through the pain from being stabbed? Did the assassin's other hand have a weapon he didn't see? Was David bleeding when he handed him over to the healer?

There was nothing he could do about it now and demanding that his guards find out could distract the healers from saving Torsival's and Kordar's lives, as well as David if he were injured. He would receive a full report soon enough.

Several Anla'shok ships accompanied his flyer, likely all the ones that could be prepped fast enough, and many more warrior ships joined the formation along the way. Looking down as they approached the government palace in Yedor, he didn't see any ground vehicles moving. The capital was shut down. On the landing pad was a full platoon of warriors and the few white robes he saw looked adrift in the sea of black uniforms.

To his surprise, the two warrior Satai, Mazik and Shaka were waiting for him. He knew that the entire Grey Council had, for lack of a better term, taken the day off. They spent most of their time in space, so it was common for them to visit their families or friends when on Minbar. That was why he'd taken the opportunity to leave early for his visit to Tuzanor today. There was no one of sufficient rank around who was bold enough to complain or warn the Sheridan family that he'd be there sooner than they expected.

It also was normal in a time of crisis that the council members were kept safe, usually where they were, until it was over. Granted this policy had been used only for natural disasters and a few dangerous outbreaks of illness over the last several centuries. That didn't stop the warriors from implementing it now, with the exception of the warrior Satai apparently. He didn't want to face them, didn't want to explain or see who knew what kind of look in their eyes. He needed peace and quiet, to be alone and calm down. To pray. Images from the fight wouldn't stop flashing in his mind. He was still on edge and his battle alertness refused to fade.

He ignored their barrage of questions as he stepped out of the flyer. They followed him persistently into the building. Mazik and Shaka were alternately barking orders at those around them and then arguing with each other.

The one thing they agreed on was that this assassination attempt had to be masterminded by aliens. No Minbari in their right mind would try to kill Valen.

"No, this was not an alien plot," Valen corrected them bluntly, interrupting their loud promises of retribution on those responsible.

"They tried to kill you," Shaka countered as if that was all the proof needed that aliens were behind the attack.

"They were after David Sheridan."

"Yet, they did not hesitate to assault you," growled Mazik.

"Because I was protecting their target. They weren't persistent enough though," he said speculatively. "Either of them could have triggered their suicide bombs the moment they entered the room. The previous assassin never got close enough to be sure of success and he didn't hesitate to commit suicide when he failed. Why didn't these three do the same?"

He ignored their startled expressions and wasn't interested in explaining how he knew it. "Granted," he continued quickly, "the one with the changling net never got a chance to use his bomb. However, the other two had ample opportunity. Either they suddenly didn't want to die or they didn't want to kill me."

"Their reasons cannot change what they did."

"Are you seriously going to make the entire Wind Swords clan pay for the actions of a few?"

Valen didn't wait for them to answer, but left them standing in the passageway. There was nothing else he could do or say to them. Belatedly, he realized they probably didn't know yet that the assassins were Wind Swords, but he didn't have the energy to deal with it. He dearly needed to clean up and change clothes. His entourage and a few guards trooped after him.

"Master, were you harmed?" a new voice spoke up behind him, rather short of breath as though he'd been running.

"I'm fine."

"The blood –"

"Is the assailant's as well as mine," Valen interrupted, before glancing back at the newcomer to see that he was a medic. The emblem for master healer was embroidered on his tunic. Valen kept walking quickly. "My guards are in more need of your services than I," he said, referring to the trio flanking him. It wouldn't surprise him if they were hiding injuries.

"My assistants can tend to their minor abrasions," he answered in a judgmental tone, as though he considered it contemptible that they'd suffered less than lethal wounds defending Valen. "How much of the blood is yours?"

Valen stopped and turned on him, reining in his frustration to force his voice to remain polite. "You know that I don't have so much as a bruise now. It doesn't matter."

"Yes, you regenerated," the medic answered with a nod, "but how much of the damage was repaired? From the stain pattern and tears to your tunic, I'd say you were stabbed by a clawed glove."

"I was."

"And have you fully healed internally?"

"Yes," Valen answered a little more tersely than he meant to.

The healer was intimidated, but not enough to leave. Instead, he dropped into more formal speech and said, "After a battle, it can take some time for a warrior to notice pain from his wounds. It is difficult for one to be aware of their true extent."

Though he was fed up more with the day in general than the well-meaning medic, Valen turned to the nearest warrior with a dagger sheath and asked, "Your knife, please."

The warrior handed it over to him and Valen used it to stab the center of his own palm. He held his hand up for the healer to see and ignoring the looks of shock on every face, he sliced through muscle, tendon and bone to remove the knife rather than simple pulling it out. The knife hesitated only briefly when it hit the bones before they snapped and his knife was free. Pinkish red blood gushed out and his upper palm and fingers hung grotesquely at an angle away from his thumb and wrist. He stubbornly grit his teeth through the pain.

No one moved to help him or restrain him from attacking himself. They stared at his hand as arcs of electricity bridged the gap and slowly at first pulled the shattered bones together. The bleeding ceased and the entire wound glowed as the rest of the muscles regenerated more rapidly. In a moment's time, the light faded, revealing his unmarred hand. The only evidence that he'd half severed it was his blood soaked cuff clinging to his wrist and the puddle on the floor.

"I am fine," was all Valen said. He returned the blade to its owner and resumed his walk to his quarters. The healer didn't follow this time.

- o0o -

Geneva, Earth

"Methos? How did you get in here?" Catherine Sakai demanded with a glare as she threw open her office door. "And get your feet off my desk."

Methos smirked from his spot lounging in her chair before hastily standing up when she looked ready to knock him out of it. She slammed the door behind her.

"Well?" she insisted.

"I have paperwork for everything."

"You can't fake clearance to get into an Earthforce base."

"I'm aware of that, but thank you for informing me. And might I add that I never suspected you'd rejoin the military, otherwise I would've gotten here days ago. Interesting career choice."

"I re-enlisted after Sheridan took down Clarke. I let them know that I'd been a Ranger, said that I'd left and that the Minbari assumed I was dead. Earthforce was happy to have me."

"I'll bet they were."

"It's not like that," she countered defensively. "You blew my cover, by the way, when you got the Rangers to find me a few weeks ago. That wasn't easy to explain away and my superiors were livid that I had to abort my mission there. The only good thing is they didn't know it was you."

"They don't know what you are, I hope?"

"No. At least, I don't think so. If anyone has noticed I look a bit young for my record, they are turning a blind eye. And you are avoiding answering me. How did you sneak in here?"

"I did not sneak, the soldiers let me in and before you ask yet another obvious question, no they did not recognize me. My perfectly legitimate documentation told them I was Earthforce, they didn't question it."

"I'm sure the lousy haircut and ill-fitting uniform helped," she said sarcastically as she strode across the room to a filing cabinet. "Where did you steal it?"

"The clothes, I can't say, the bad haircut is courtesy of your husband."

"So, you did find him," she stated tensely, pausing in the middle of putting the files back in a drawer. "I wouldn't have thought you'd go yourself."

"You haven't heard?"

"That the Minbari's great leader, Valen, has returned to them? Oh, I heard, it's just not newsworthy, yet. ISN will probably figure it out before the politicians in Earthdome realize they need to gag them." She shut the cabinet drawer and asked quietly, "How was he?"

"A bit gloomy, until the Minbari descended on him. Then I think he was just pissed."

"What are you doing here anyway?" she asked wearily.

"I have a message to deliver."

A mixture of anger, sorrow and pain flickered across her face. She held out her hand wordlessly without looking at him.

"It isn't on a data crystal or paper," he answered shaking his head. "Valen says that he is sorry, he begs you to forgive him. He admits that he was wrong and wishes he could have changed what he did, but he believes that under the circumstances it still would have happened, just by other means. He says that he needs you, that his life is empty without you, that he loves you and will wait forever for you."

She turned to look out the window at the bright sunny day. For several moments, the only sounds were of tree branches brushing against the glass in the breeze and faint birdsong. Methos walked to the door deciding it would be best if he just left.

"Wait."

He stopped and looked at her. She still didn't turn around, but her voice was steady.

"Tell me what you meant by he was 'gloomy,'" she said.

"I just brought a message. I don't know what has happened between the two of you. I'm not here to play marriage guidance counselor."

"I'm not asking you to," she snapped before lowering her voice and saying, "Please just tell me."

"He was miserable. I don't know what else you want me to say."

"How often did he second guess himself after the Minbari found him?"

"As much as he ever does, I suppose. It's not something I can measure. He didn't want to go with them, but couldn't find a way out of it. Look, whatever he did that drove you away –"

"I thought you weren't going to give marriage advice?" she interrupted sourly. "It's not that, well it is, but it isn't. What I mean is, I need to know if he can handle leading the Minbari again."

"Why don't you ask him that?"

She turned around and gave him an annoyed look. "Don't be silly, I couldn't contact him if I wanted to, the Minbari would never let me," she said. "I'm not explaining this very well. He can't predict the future anymore and I'm worried that he'll return to the way he was a thousand years ago, but –"

"Stop, stop," he interrupted, skeptical and exasperated. "Since when was Valen a seer?"

"He didn't tell you?" she asked, raising one eyebrow. She sighed. "Okay, the short version is that Jeff and I fell through a time distortion just as the most recent Shadow war was starting. It sent us a millennium backwards in time to the middle of the last Shadow war and the Minbari were losing. Badly. Obviously, we both knew what was going to happen. Or rather, Jeff knew a lot about Minbar's history and transformed himself into a Minbari becoming their greatest leader and won the war."

Methos gave her a blank look before muttering, "Well, it's no crazier sounding than Immortals. Go on."

"Knowing the future changed him, made him happy like I'd never seen before. He was a completely different person." She smiled for the first time since she'd walked into her office, but it faded quickly. "Of course he believes he had no choice because he knew it was a way to make what he knew would happen… happen."

"He never seemed all that bad before," said Methos, who was still stuck on the 'different person' part.

"He's good at hiding it. I don't suppose you'd understand. You're not driven by a need to find meaning in your life."

"True. Valen always did seem rather frantic about searching for a purpose in everything. Shouldn't he be glad the Minbari want him to be their king? Isn't that a worthy purpose?"

Catherine gave him wry look, but didn't correct his old fashioned term. "But he isn't glad, is he? That is what worries me. He once thought he'd found a purpose during the Dilgar War, but after it was over he questioned everything he'd done so much he turned all his victories into defeats in his head. To hear Jeff tell it, God saw fit to perform a record breaking number of miracles."

"I've never heard him regret fighting the Dilgar."

"He doesn't. He regrets making it look easy. The Senate hid how narrowly he won some of the battles and covered up his mistakes. Earthforce's growing recklessness scared him and he hated the propaganda."

Methos frowned. "He expected another war?"

"Yes, but not how it happened. He thought Earthgov's expansionism would develop into outright conquest. Turning our neighbors into subjects. Instead, we ran into the Minbari. The way the war started shattered him. He was like a kid who after pulling off a dangerous stunt suddenly realizes how close he came to dying and sees that all the other kids were now going to try the same stupid thing because of his example.

"He believes suicide is wrong, but convinced himself that if he died in the line of duty, then that would be okay. And he didn't stop trying to die after the war. I hope that his immortality wasn't the only reason he failed, that maybe in the middle of those dangerous situations he put himself in a little will to live reasserted itself."

"And that changed once he went to the past."

"Completely. So, I have to wonder how afraid he is to lead Minbar without knowing the future?"

Methos could only look at her, but she didn't seem to really expect an answer from him. Not when he hadn't been aware of the problem.

"Before I go," he said. "There is something else. You'll be leaving Earth today, correct?"

"I can't say anything –"

"I know," he cut her off, but not ungraciously. "I'm not trying to pry. I don't care what your mission is, I merely wish to make a request."

"A favor?"

"If you'd like."

She considered him a moment before saying, "What is it?"

"You'll be traveling outside of Earth space, correct?"

"Methos," she began in a warning tone.

He held up a placating hand. "I only ask because I hope that you'll be willing to speak to any Immortal you may encounter out there. I've not heard from a friend of mine for some time, longer than usual anyway."

"Is he missing?"

"I didn't think so, but under the circumstances I'm beginning to suspect he is. It is quite possible that he has gone on a jaunt to see the stars and didn't want anyone following him. I've made a few trips myself."

"Many of us have now, I think."

"Exactly. However, with the hunt for Immortals going on, I'd have thought he'd send a message by now if he could, but he hasn't," he said shaking his head. "Not to his longtime ladylove, not to his former students or mentors. Not to anyone he knows how to contact. I've tried tracing where he has gone, but by the time it occurred to me to look, too many years had passed. His other friends have likewise turned up nothing. I was tracking down my last lead when the Narns caught me. There isn't a trail left and I can't afford to randomly search now, of course. Remaining hidden here will be hard enough as it is."

"And space is too big," she stated the obvious sympathetically.

"I know," he said, aware of how impossible it sounded. "I only ask that if you happen to meet any other Immortals out there, could you ask if they know anything about Duncan MacLeod's whereabouts. His friends are looking for him."

- o0o -

Yedor, Minbar

Valen was dimly aware of a discussion in the next room. The spacious interconnecting chambers of the quarters they'd put him in carried sound easily, however it had been quiet for some time now. Whispering among his aides had given way to silence after the first hour with only the occasional indistinct voices of his guards speaking at the distant door since then. The interruption was unwelcome.

He could just distinguish Shaka stridently admonishing someone for refusing him entrance. Sighing in resignation, Valen rose to his feet uncomfortably. His knees and numb feet briefly protested the movement before his regeneration erased all discomfort. If only it could sooth and mentally repair his mind and soul as it did physically.

The argument outside the room ceased the moment he stood up. He turned around to see the Satai and three acolytes standing a short distance from the archway into this room. Shaka was the senior of the two warriors on the council. He'd joined the council a few years after the war, which meant the first time Valen had seen him was when he was appointed ambassador to Minbar.

Shaka sidestepped the acolytes blocking his path, which caused them to do the same reforming into a wall in front of him. Valen imagined that they'd done this odd dance all the way across the room the moment Shaka became persistent.

"Master," began Shaka. "I apologize for interrupting your prayers, however there are matters that can wait no longer."

"Very well," Valen replied in resignation.

Shaka stood straighter and stated, "The council and caste elders are ready to assemble, at your convenience."

In other words, everyone had arrived and given the nature of the situation, they couldn't begin without him. Valen was more than willing to get this over with. "Jenard, send a messenger to call the assembly immediately."

Jenard bowed and scurried away. Another acolyte hurriedly brought Valen a formal outer cloak very similar to his old Anla'shok one. Shaka continued speaking as he followed Valen out the door.

"The warrior caste has formally declared that since the assassins meant to commit suicide, the one remaining shall be permitted to take his own life… after his interrogation is complete, of course," he added with some satisfaction.

It was exactly what Valen expected. Minbari didn't use the term killing in self-defense, but it meant the same thing as it was akin to the Denn'sha duels, the only legal means of killing another. Minbari did not kill Minbari. They preferred to put a more palatable label on it than admit that sometimes they did kill each other.

"The Wind Swords have publicly disavowed the assassins, saying that they were cast out of the clan months ago and that the dishonor and separation must have driven them mad," continued Shaka bitterly. "They always make that excuse. Most outcast Wind Swords attack people wholly unconnected with them, which their clan insists is proof of madness since they ought to want revenge on those who rejected them, not others. How the Wind Swords produce so many warriors willing to be disowned, carry out orders to commit murder and die knowing that those who sent them will heap dishonor on their names and deny it all, I'll never understand."

Valen could only nod in weary agreement as Shaka raged at the injustice.

"Which brings me to the problem of Kordar," Shaka said. He looked greatly ashamed.

Concern for his guard's welfare snapped him out of his daze. "How badly is he injured?"

"Insufficiently."

Offended, Valen stopped in the middle of the passageway, causing the whole parade to slide to a halt, and turned angrily on him. "Compared to what exactly?" he demanded.

"Compared to Torsival who is still in surgery," said Shaka, holding his ground. "Kordar has a bruise across his brow ridge, a few gashes and his word that he was knocked unconscious and awoke with blurred vision."

"I saw him stabbed."

"Shallowly. Kordar wore an extra layer of armor, which saved him from real harm. The others wore their usual lightly armored uniforms and were unaware that he did not. Why would Kordar secretly take such precautions? However, if he were an accomplice he would need to appear uninvolved, but not be seriously injured. The council's assessment is that the only reason your guards are alive is because leaving Kordar as the only survivor would draw suspicion on him."

"If that is true, why didn't he stay down and fake unconsciousness instead of helping me?"

"I've no doubt his performance was quite convincing. He _appeared_ to come to your aid so as to get nearer. In close fighting you couldn't possibly see every move and you would trust him. Kordar could have accidentally tripped you, or perhaps appear to be fooled by a feint, or hesitated at seemingly the wrong moment leaving your left side vulnerable… and the child would be dead. Possibly you as well, without ever knowing you were betrayed. If the rest of the guards had not arrived…"

"Shaka," Valen interrupted ruefully. "You and Mr. Garibaldi would get along splendidly."

"Master?"

Valen's insides churned as he resumed striding down the corridor. He hated to think that the Wind Swords could successfully fool numerous people on every level to place an agent within his guard. Yet, part of him wanted to believe it, so that he could finish the clan for good. He suppressed it with difficulty.

"You make a compeling argument, however as you pointed out, Kordar's brow ridge was hit. And before you say it, yes the assassins may have _unintentionally_ caused him to be too disoriented to stand. Yet, he fought anyway."

"If he was disoriented, he might not know who he was fighting and mistook the assassin for you."

"Tell me, would we even be having this discussion if Kordar wasn't a Wind Sword?"

Shaka's mouth fell open for a moment before he closed it and frowned as though unsure of how he should react.

"You and Mazik chose the members of my guard, did you not?" he asked rhetorically. "I can't help but notice that there are two Moon Shields, one of which is the guard leader and three Star Riders among them… just as you are a Moon Shield and Mazik is a Star Rider."

"As there are five clans and nine positions, it was not possible to divide them equally and each warrior qualifies by merit alone regardless of their clan."

"So you will both take responsibility for choosing Kordar should it be proven he was involved?"

There was a long pause in which only the group's footsteps could be heard. Valen knew he, as well as the guards and acolytes trailing them, were considering the repercussions, the potential dishonor that could fall on the two Satai. Enlightened self-interest usually won out.

"We will do as honor demands, as always," was Shaka's non-answer.

It was a bid for time, but time was what Kordar needed if he was innocent. It also reminded Valen of times in the past when the council had covered up the Wind Swords' dishonorable acts to save face. It had happened often enough that he began to wonder if the Wind Swords were expecting the council to hide the details of what happened and let the clan off with a mild punishment to avoid embarrassment.

- o0o -

The Caste Elders, their aides, and what appeared to be every high ranking official on Minbar filled the hall beyond its usual capacity. The warriors stood halfway between parade rest and battle stances, challenging everyone with their eyes. The religious put on an air of contempt and distain. Fear surrounded the workers and a sense that they desperately wished they were anywhere else. Firm lines divided each of them and equal numbers of each were present for Delenn's redesign of the Grey Council had not been duplicated on the caste level. She was easy to spot amongst her caste, as it was the only appropriate place for her to be under the circumstances. The Anla'shok did not have formal representation among the elders. The Grey Council sat at one end, observing the proceedings like ominous statues. Valen was next to them, yet not exactly with them.

A priest had spoken first from a script, literally. He read from a stack of sheets, undoubtedly written by Delenn. Given her rank she could have related the events she witnessed herself. The only explanation he could think of why she didn't was that it was too painful for her as yet. Next was a warrior whose speech consisted mostly of information provided by Valen's guards and the Anla'shok.

"The assassins were first seen walking along the lower levels," the warrior reported, "boldly going up the steps of the garden to enter the house. The Anla'shok sentries there were to be on duty for the entirety of Valen's visit and did not see his entourage arrive at the front of the house. Upon seeing the imposter accompanied by what appeared to be two acolytes, the Anla'shok mistook them for Valen's aides while the guards at the terrace doors and inside the house assumed they were household staff giving Valen a tour of the grounds. If any of them found it strange that neither Entil'Zha Delenn nor President Sheridan was with him, they naturally did not presume to inquire.

"Later when the guards were ordered to restrain the imposter and his changeling net failed, he was instantly recognizable as a warrior of the Wind Swords clan. The other assassins quickly abandoned their comrade, feigning terrified astonishment and left as directed by the guards who believed they were sending two acolytes away for their own safety. In addition, those two wore worker attire under religious robes, presumably meant to help them blend in with the workers on the lower levels and escape through the back later."

The remainder of her report had very little that was new to Valen, merely details. To his relief she said very little on the issue of Kordar other than to announce that he was suspended from guard duty while his clan was under investigation. She ended it with a long eloquent expression of the shame these failures had brought onto the warrior caste that was quite moving. There didn't appear to be much else to say while the prisoner continued to remain silent. The warriors' representative said little on that subject implying that it was not going well at all. Valen expected the meeting to adjourn however one of the workers stepped out onto the floor.

Whereas the other castes chose prominent members that were not actually elders to relay the facts for them given that the elders were to pass judgment later, this worker was the highest ranked elder of his caste. It lent an extra level of gravity to the situation to know that their elders had something so important to say that they didn't delegate it.

"If I may address the assembly," he began in a strong, but clearly pained voice. "I have evidence from the worker caste."

His words caused a stir among the audience as no one had expected the workers to speak, after all none of them had witnessed the fight. As an elder, his request to speak was a formality for no one would deny him the floor.

"The assassins gained entry to the house with the help of a delivery worker, I regret to say."

Shocked silence was the only response and made it all the easier to hear his quiet voice.

"This worker brings food stuffs from Tuzanor regularly to Entil'Zha Delenn's house. On the day of the attack, she was exceedingly late in her delivery. Her vehicle broke down along the way. She requested that a second one be sent to meet her and it was some time in arriving. The two workers who came were unknown to her. They transferred her cargo, took her and her assistant onboard and proceeded as she directed to the house. The Anla'shok on guard scanned the four workers and the delivery. They were allowed through the gate.

"At the kitchen door, servants from within the house came to fetch the delivery hurriedly. The driver informed her that he would help unload while she completed the proper forms for her delivery. She presumed that he and the two assistants were handing the food to the house staff from the back. After the paperwork was signed and exchanged with the kitchen manager, she waited for the driver to return to his place. Eventually, she investigated the back of the vehicle herself and found no one there.

"She went to the kitchen door, but no one answered it. Finally, she decided to drive to the gate and ask the Anla'shok for help locating her missing people. On her way up the drive, the vehicle was stopped and searched by other Anla'shok on the grounds. She was badly frightened by this and did not dare question them as one took over the driver's seat and others escorted them along the lane. Those at the gate let the vehicle pass. Once off the grounds, they let her have the vehicle back and ordered her to leave."

As the elder returned to his seat, Valen sincerely hoped that was the last shocking report. There was only so much failure the Minbari could take. Delenn's face was stony. It had been a day of blunders all around. Only the religious caste had not become mired in scandal. There was a sudden flurry of activity near the back of the crowd. An acolyte was determinedly moving through the ranks ignoring propriety. She reached the three highest-ranking religious caste elders and gave them what looked like note. The scene caught the attention of the entire room and the tension rose as the three elders began whispering intently to each other. Valen sighed resignedly as he waited along with everyone else to hear what was clearly disturbing news.

"There is a new problem, unconnected with this matter," the priest who'd spoken before announced as he returned to the floor. He continued to the end of the room as though each step pained him and stopped in front of Valen. Looking up he said hoarsely, "Master, Earth's news media has reported details of your origin on their world and your return here."

No one, not even the wide-eyed old priest in front of him, seemed to breathe after that statement. It was the dreadful pause of someone who couldn't believe what had just happened and was mere seconds away from unleashing a torrent of fury.

"Good," Valen said calmly.

The crowd's reaction was anything but calm, but whether they were outraged at ISN or himself or both he couldn't tell. He waited through their outbursts patiently and in moments, they'd reasserted their self-control.

"I did warn you not to force me into the open," he couldn't help reminding them looking sideways at the council. To his surprise, the council was quite composed.

"Indeed," answered Satai Dhaliri, a priestess. "We are ready."

Valen looked sharply at her, something in her tone and bearing was wrong. "Ready how?"

"To deny it," she replied as though it was the only possible answer.

Valen stared at her.

"This band of rumormongers cannot possibly have sufficient proof. Even if they have obtained ancient records from the Watchers, which is highly unlikely and can produce evidence that an Immortal with the name Jeffery Sinclair existed… it won't be enough. All we need do is insist on comparing DNA samples and they will be forced to conclude that any similarity between you and your past self is mere coincidence. Your Chrysalis transformation was quite thorough, more than Entil'Zha Delenn endured." Dhaliri nodded toward Delenn, who looked torn, as though unsure of how she should react. "Out of necessity of course. Your immortality is the perfect explanation for all other anomalies and similarities."

Dhaliri ended her little speech, which to his ears sounded rehearsed and the entire council looked quite satisfied with themselves.

"There is one flaw in your argument," he said bluntly. "I won't deny the truth."

"How can you be pleased with this?" Satai Durlan suddenly demanded.

Valen responded with a wry look. "I never meant for my origins to remain a secret forever and it is inevitable that it'd become known in this time."

"But all Minbari will be confused and angry," Satai Bhurli stated the obvious. "They will mistrust the prophecies…"

"There were no prophecies a thousand years ago," Valen explained.

"Our society depends on them now," he argued.

"None of that was required to unite Minbar. You don't need it. Can you not see that?"

"Perhaps it is you who cannot see, Valen," Satai Katz spoke up his deep, slow voice filled the chamber. "Because you perceive yourself as a man. Yes, I do mean a man, a Human. Please do not be offended that I do not. I know you are more than that and our people need you to be what you are. We've subsisted on ritual in your absence and perhaps that will fade away now that you've returned. But it will take time."

Valen locked eyes with him for a long moment, wondering why this old worker was telling him to be himself when the council so far had done everything they could to force him into a mold. Finally he said sadly, imploringly, "You'll wish you'd left me on Babylon 5."

"Perhaps, but what is done is done and the future will be."

Valen couldn't help but admire his stubbornness, enough to let him have the last word at least for now. He'd had enough frustration and argument for one day. They'd put on quite a sporting match, tossing questions and throwing painful truths at each other. These caste elders had likely never heard the Grey Council speak so candidly before. One more rule of their culture was being shattered today. They must be becoming numb to it by now.

He stood and proceeded to the doors at the back of the room, the council quickly filing out after him. Delenn caught up with him as he passed the second corridor. His heart was heavy for her and he hardly knew what to say, but he led the way into a nearby gallery anyway. The windows displayed a starry night outside. It was with some dismay that he realized he had lost all track of time and it was quite late.

"John is waiting in the courtyard, if I could send for him?" she began.

"Of course," he said as she dispatched an aide to bring her husband. "For that matter, I'm sure the rest of you have better things to do than stand about here. Run along," he told the convoy of acolytes who were following him.

"I apologize for not informing you of ISN's broadcast myself. John had only just seen it and told me, but the convocation was already called so it was necessary to hurry…" she rambled. "I did not think anyone else would learn of it so soon."

"Delenn, it's alright." It concerned him to see her so flustered. It was unlike her, but given the horrors of the day she was doing rather well.

"How is David?"

"I'm told he will be fine," she said blinking back tears and failing. "John and I have let it be known that we have sent him into hiding with friends. In reality, David is currently onboard a whitestar bound for Earth. He will be safer with his grandparents until this is over."

He couldn't think of what to do as she struggled to regain her composure.

"I'm so sorry," he said helplessly. "I shouldn't have visited, it made it too tempting an opportunity."

"No, no," she recoiled at the idea that he had any share of the blame. "They could have attacked at another time disguised as John or I."

"I don't think so. Masquerading as you or Sheridan or even one of your aides held too much risk," he argued. "Someone might try to give them a report, ask a question they couldn't answer, or you might give them an order they didn't know how to follow. That's in addition to the chance of meeting the real person. In any case, they apparently only had one changeling net or at least only one of them was able to tolerate wearing it.

"Impersonating me gave them the highest chance of success. No one would question where I went or what I did. As I was a guest, they knew exactly which rooms I would be in and could avoid me. They timed this precisely when the three of us were supposed to be in the dining room."

"They were unaware that their means of breaking in would also expose them," she said. "That is how you knew something was wrong?" she asked pointedly. "While I let embarrassment cloud my senses."

"Delenn, you are not at fault. Not at all."

The firm conviction in his voice bolstered her somewhat, enough to say what was obviously worrying her. "How did you know that Wind Swords were there, that they had a changeling net, that were going to attack David… David…" She fought back tears again and choked on her words angrily. The look in her eyes showed she was torn between wanting to regain her old surety in his foreknowledge and keeping the dismal reality she'd lived with since the end of the mystery. The latest events fit neither.

"Like you, I recognized that the household was behaving out of character," he tried to reassure her while downplaying it. "The thought crossed my mind that a third attempt could be in progress. I would've dismissed it given how heavily your house is guarded, but I was sure the Wind Swords were behind the attacks and that there was one way to completely breech your security: a changeling net. A method you've seen them use before, remember?" he asked referring to the time he was framed for the murder attempt on Kosh by a Wind Sword on Babylon 5.

"I didn't know if I was just being paranoid, so I made an excuse to take you all to the most secure room I could think of, a place they wouldn't expect us to be, and wait to see if my hunch was correct. I had no idea there were three of them."

"How did you know for certain they were Wind Swords?"

"Experience."

"We passed them in the corridor, John and I," Delenn suddenly confessed. She stared off into space. "I didn't even look at their faces, I was in such a rush to catch up with John. We gave away your location. They only had to go down the hall we'd just left and see your guards to find you."

"Delenn…"

"Don't tell me not to blame myself," she insisted. "They invaded my home _again. _I failed to protect David. It is right that I feel guilt."

Knowing he couldn't persuade her otherwise, Valen dropped the matter. Sheridan arrived then, sparing them from an awkward silence. After greeting one another, Sheridan launched into how to deal with the problem. Valen could understand his frustration at being excluded by the Minbari in their deliberations. They were using the excuse that Delenn was a sufficient representative for the family to keep an alien out and it rankled.

"I heard about what went on in meeting," Sheridan told him. The aide Delenn sent to escort him here had likely witnessed it and probably informed him on her instructions. It was good to know that not everyone was as willing to keep Sheridan out.

"This prisoner who won't talk," Sheridan began, aggravated. "He's lost all rights and from what I know about the warriors, they're none too gentle about getting information. Yet, obviously it's not working. And what about this guard of yours who is under suspicion? Why don't they use telepaths to get the truth out of both of them?"

"Minbari do not use telepaths to determine truthfulness," Delenn explained.

"_Minbari do not lie_," Sheridan quoted at her. "But we all know that some do lie… that it is even okay so long as it is to protect another. That doesn't make it okay in my book, it makes it worse. Nobody is seriously going to let these guys shield the other conspirators, right?"

"No, they won't allow that, which is why the life and honor of Kordar is at stake," Valen informed them. "Everyone believes he is lying to shield his clan, which happens to also work in his favor in protecting himself from punishment, should he deserve any. That is why he has been suspended on suspicion alone."

"You don't think he's guilty?" Sheridan said surprised. "Asking a telepath to help would solve the problem. Surely someone would agree to verify Kordar's allegiance?" asked Sheridan.

"Pride," admitted Delenn, "won't allow it. The Wind Swords would insist on using their own telepaths, but like you said, everyone knows they'd be obligated to lie to protect their clan's honor. However, raising an objection is tantamount to accusing the Wind Swords of _intending_ to have their telepaths lie, for which honor would demand that they kill their accusers… Do you see why this is not done?"

"They'd rather he get away with it to save face?"

Delenn shook her head and said, "They'd rather dishonor an innocent man than loose face."

"What makes this worse," Valen added, "is regardless of whether Kordar is innocent, he will likely die."

"You're kidding?" Sheridan asked, appalled.

"The honor of the people," Delenn explained, "demands that if he is guilty of being an accomplice to commit murder, he must die for it. If he is innocent, but it cannot be proven, he must give up his life willingly to erase the dishonor."

At Sheridan's stunned silence, Valen said, "There is only one way he can live and maintain his honor at this time. His intended victim can pardon him."

"David? But he's a baby."

"Which is why the decision will likely fall to you and Delenn."

Sheridan looked sick. "I can't do that," he declared and he turned to Delenn. She was clearly miserable and entirely aware that they'd be required to do this. "I'm so angry I can hardly think straight as it is and I'm supposed to decide this guy's fate without evidence of his guilt or innocence?" he asked incredulously. "Why don't _you_ pardon him if you're so sure he's not an accomplice?"

"I can't get involved –"

Sheridan turned on him in fury, looking ready to accuse Valen of cowardice, punch him or both. Delenn grabbed her husband's arm, whether to reassure him or hold him back it wasn't clear.

"Hear me out, please," he implored. "Yes, I have the power to step in, but only if I'm the sole target of the plot. I'd have to claim that David was not in danger, otherwise you and Delenn will still have no choice but to make a decision along with me. However, the fact is the assassins didn't use their bombs. The general public is under the impression that other than that, only an Immortal can kill another Immortal. I'd rather not inform everyone that the assassins only needed to decapitate me. Admitting that is what it'll take to prove I was a target.

"Without your intervention, this mess could drag on until Kordar voluntarily commits suicide to spare his family further repercussions," Valen ended with a sigh.

"But that's…"

"Our way," Delenn said gently and with great sadness. She leaned her head against his shoulder for comfort.

"It stinks," Sheridan declared forcefully, but he put an arm around his wife.

Delenn looked at Valen intently and asked, "Do you truly believe your guard is innocent or is it that you don't want to believe otherwise?"

Valen thought about that, reminding himself that he'd met Kordar only a few weeks ago. He knew nothing about him, except for what he'd seen. Replaying the battle in his mind, he silently prayed for what seemed like the hundredth time today that this was the right thing to do. Valen steeled himself and said, "Yes, I believe he is innocent. Please spare his life."

Their expressions of great anxiety and pain mirrored each other. They would need time to decide. It was out of his hands now.

"We'll talk about it," Sheridan answered as he looked at his wife.

"When we are calmer," she added in agreement.

Valen nodded. "Thank you for considering it."

"One more thing," Sheridan said and handed a data crystal over to Valen. "Here is a copy of the ISN report."

"We will leave you to it," Delenn said. She and Sheridan made a discrete exit.

Valen set off down the hall to his quarters. He couldn't help feeling some trepidation as he held the crystal, though he'd expected this report would happen sooner rather than later. Knowing didn't help. He'd thought he was as ready as he could be given he'd known there was nothing he could do to prepare for it or prevent it. Only wait for it to happen.

He dismissed everyone inside his rooms. Now that he was alone, he almost didn't want to watch it. As soon as he thought it, he pushed the idea aside. He went brusquely to the nearest console and shoved the crystal into it's data port. It looked as though recording was edited in a hurry, probably by Sheridan himself, for the video began at the end of what was obviously the previous report. A vaguely familiar image of a woman in an Earthforce uniform was already disappearing from the screen as the reporter finished his report.

_"-in lue of a funeral. Our hearts go with her family and friends in this time of grief."_

The image recentered around the face of the reporter as no new image were produced to replace the deceased officer's picture. The words "_Another Immortal Found or a Fraud?_" hovered below him on the screen.

_"A man we at ISN have long believed to be an Immortal called Valen was seen on Babylon 5 last week in disguise. Under his most recent alias of Jeffrey Sinclair, he was our most successful fighter pilot in the Earth Minbari War, credited with thirty-three confirmed kills and decorated for valor at the Battle of the Line. His reaction to near genocide? To become the enemy, literally. Valen has transformed himself into a Minbari/Human hybrid, presumably by the same unknown means used by former AmbassadorDelenn, now Entil'Zha of the Rangers and the wife of Interstellar Alliance President, John Sheridan. _

_"Minbar is currently hailing Valen as their long lost leader. But just what qualifies Valen, whose last years as a Human culminated in a short stint as commander of Babylon 5 and a dubious ambassadorship to Minbar, to rule the Minbari Federation? Ask any Minbari and you will get the same answer._

_"'He's a Minbari not born of Minbari who defeated the Shadows and reformed Minbari society a thousand years ago.' _

_"Not only do they say this with a straight face, but they embrace the idea and ignore the fact that the person they are pointing to was completely Human just three years ago._

_"Has Minbar's famous conformity become blatant brainwashing? The rest of the galaxy can only watch and wonder what cultural cataclysms will Valen wreak on Minbar?"_

_"That is all for our Babylon 5 Babble segment-"_

The video ended there. It was one of ISN's location reports. They had a series of them at the same time every day on each of Earth's regions. Of course, Sheridan would watch the daily Babylon 5 report and likely was the reason ISN's broadcasts were boosted this far away now. Unlike Valen, Sheridan hadn't luxury of regular visits to Babylon 5 these last two years.

The report was both good and quite bad. They didn't display a single picture of him, which gave him the impression that it had been hastily put together. If they hadn't bothered to dig up their bio image of him from his Babylon 5 days, they must not be taking it very seriously. Also, they didn't know much and his Minbari handlers wouldn't allow them close enough to learn more. It was highly likely that some politician's assistant had leaked that Jeffery Sinclair was actually an Immortal named Valen, so he could count on Earthgov to lean on ISN to hush it up. They were already out public favor for splashing one Immortal's face all over this corner of the galaxy. They didn't have an excuse this time.

ISN was walking a fine line wanting to produce more reports on Immortals without stumbling onto more legally shaky ground. However, the very nature of the report would make it easy for many people to dismiss it from the lack of substance, if not flatly absurd. He was almost sorry the person who'd written the report hadn't mentioned that he'd traveled through time. A crazy claim like that would have prevented the whole thing from ever making it on the air.

His musings were interupted as his console of an incoming call and he grinned broadly both at the name of the caller and that it was sent directly to his quarters this time. It was nice not to have to sneak off to a viewing room anymore to take calls from his friends. A two dimensional hologram of a woman he'd not seen in a thousand years sprang to life over the console and for a moment, he forgot to say hello, but just looked at her.

"You wouldn't believe the hooey I had to wade through to get this channel open," was her flippant greeting.

"Oh, I've got an inkling. How are you Susan?"

Susan Ivanova looked differently than he remembered, but he couldn't place what. Other than a new hairstyle, she was unchanged as far as he could tell. He noticed that his scrutiny was being reciprocated, but she'd known what to expect. Other than a raised eyebrow, Susan made no comment as she studied his appearance.

"I'm well," she replied and proudly announced, "I've got my own ship. What about you?"

"Good. Congratulations on your promotion, Captain. You more than earned it," he said with a nod. "I'm very relieved to hear from you. I was beginning to think my message would never get through."

"It didn't," she said grimly. "I raised hell when I saw a news report about you today. I'm sure you remember what the red tape is like, so I won't torment you with a rant."

"I remember. I doubt they'll repeat that mistake, not if they value their hearing. How do you like commanding a ship?"

"I love it," she exclaimed. Susan began talking about the highs and lows of her job. Little stories about her travels through space and its differences or similarities to holding a station together. She didn't give too much detail of course, but he didn't need to know which planets she'd seen to understand her enthusiasm. She was almost gushing, something he could never recall seeing her do before, as though merely saying she was happy wasn't enough.

"It has been about three years since I took command of the Nemesis, so I've gone from settling in to trying not to relax too much."

"Appropriate name," he comment slyly.

"It is," she said with pride. "I've always been partial to griffins and divine retribution."

"Well, enough about me. What are you up to?"

No questions about his immortality or why he hadn't contacted any of his friends the day his past self left. She was content to listen to what he wished to tell her and find out the rest by other means if she could. Direct inquisitiveness had its place and she had a knack for knowing when not to ask. He realized he must be more edgy from today's hassles than he thought for her to pick up on it via a mere transmission.

Determined to keep the mood cheerful he said in a conspiratiorial tone, "I'm bestowing migranes on everyone I meet."

"By doing what?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

"Oh, so many ways. But my current favorite involves a certain group," he didn't say the Grey Council as he could never be sure if his handlers or in this case, Earthforce, were listening in, but Susan would know who he meant, "whose policy for dealing with extremely controversial subjects has been to declare that I will take care of it when I return."

"Ouch. That's some serious procrastination."

"Some of it has become irrelevant over the centuries, such as ownership the Cup of Aelenn. Its still a sore topic even though her shrine collapsed into the sea generations ago. Can you even imagine Minbari arguing over a glorified chamber pot? No, don't answer that," he said aware that any number of embarrassing things about the Minbari's use of his name were on the tip of her tongue. "Everything from intergalactic involvement to the color of street signs-"

He was interrupted by the entrance of an aide and realized he was going to be late. For a moment he considered canceling the trip all together rather than cut his talk with Susan short, but knew she'd have no qualms in expressing her dissapproval if he did.

"I'm sorry, but I'm being called away." He hated to dampen her mood, but there was one more thing he had to tell her. "Since you are already on this channel, were you planning on calling Sheridan and Delenn? I could have you transferred to them," he offered letting his expression show the urgency.

"I'd appreciate that, thank you. Trouble?"

"Some foiled plots and suspects in custody. I know they'd like to hear your opinions."

"Thanks for the heads up. It is really," her voice caught as she stumbled over the last word, but managed to steady it as she repeated, "_really_ great to talk to you, Jeff."

"And you, Susan."

As he instructed his aide to transfer the signal to the Sheridan household, Valen finally realized what was different about Ivanova. She was careworn and throwing herself into her job to hide it.

- o0o -

Preview of chapter 8:

"I have been a doctor many times," Methos stated. He kneeled down by the sofa and pushed aside some of the candles on the nearest table to make room for his surgical kit. "What else did they tell you?" he asked as he pulled out a scanner and began waving it over the body. The others stood over him looking at the scanner readout, though Methos doubted either would understand it.

"They found her in her quarters on the floor. The security chief's theory is she let someone in and was attacked, but the doctor says otherwise. No sign of a struggle, nothing stolen and she didn't call anyone for help," Alastair recited sadly. "Whether any of that is actually true, however…" he finished, suspicion lining his face.


	8. Too Many Unknowns

Title: Valen's Return

Author: Julie the Tall Terror

Summary: The galaxy learns that some Humans are Immortal. While greedy aliens are after the secret to immortality, the Minbari and Watchers search for a particular Immortal, Valen. Highlander/Babylon 5 crossover.

Setting: 2264. The new Interstellar Alliance is still very shaky.

Babylon 5 characters: Valen (Sinclair), Delenn, Catherine, Sheridan, Garibaldi, possibly more.

Highlander the Series characters: Methos, the Watcher organization, Macleod, possibly more.

You do NOT need to know anything about Highlander: the Series to understand this story and if you do, you'll just enjoy the familiar characters.

Big thanks to John Hightower for creating the Minbari Dictionary at and my beta reader Marianne Todd.

Chapter 8

Too Many Unknowns

"Valen said: 'The greatest enemy is the one you do not know. You can predict the actions of those who are familiar to you. The one you cannot predict is the one who can harm you.'"

- Delenn, Babylon 5: "Atonement"

- o0o -

Could the sound of a people detector be any more annoying?

After the tenth bell, it was obvious that the person wasn't going away. Grumbling, Methos wearily stumbled to his front door. He still hadn't quite re-adjusted to the local time after his jaunt through space. He would go on holiday to recover if he weren't so glad to be home. He opened it to see a plain, serious looking man standing on his doorstep holding up his wrist to show the Watcher tattoo on it. The stranger gave no other introduction.

"This is quite irregular," was Methos' greeting.

"If we had another choice we'd take it," the Watcher replied, pulling his sleeve down. "But this is an Immortal matter we can't handle ourselves and given the circumstances."

"Find another someone else to be your flunky," Methos said as he started to close the door.

The Watcher stuck his shoe in the doorway saying hastily, "It directly involves you and your recent trouble with the Narns."

Methos spent half a second contemplating a gruesome and effective way of removing this man from his home before curiosity got the better of him. The Watchers always knew the best secrets after all. "Go on then."

"Cassandra, under her latest identity as Captain Lochley, has died under mysterious circumstances on Babylon 5. You hadn't heard the news?"

Methos shook his head and asked, "This should interest me how?" His first thought was that she'd lost her head, but he remembered a quickening of would seriously damage the station. He was sure something like that would have made the news.

"There was no quickening." The Watcher stated the obvious.

"Obviously."

"She wasn't decapitated. However, she remains dead."

Methos gave him an aggravated look. "So, Cassandra has decided to end her current identity. No doubt she has left instructions in her will to ship her body to her 'family' on Earth, who will turn out to be a friend who'll unseal her coffin so she can revive."

The Watcher nodded and explained, "Her body arrived last night and was claimed by a former student of hers. He did exactly as you said and appears to be increasingly alarmed as the hours have passed. He doesn't have anyone to ask for help that we know of. She still hasn't revived."

"It could be a combination of her visit to the morgue, an airless coffin, and the freezing hold of the ship that brought her home. Embalming fluid is not pleasant, to say the least," Methos responded as though speaking to a child and an obtuse child at that. "With her head still attached, she will revive under the right circumstances."

He didn't appear to take offense at Methos' tone, but responded as though discussing an academic puzzle and completely ignoring its implications. "She wasn't embalmed, per the instructions she left in the event of her death. They didn't drain her blood or inject her body with any chemicals. She had ample opportunity to revive and slip out of Babylon 5's morgue before they put her in the transport's freezer."

Not surprising to hear. Immortals who took longer than a few minutes to regenerate sometimes woke up in morgues and for that reason tended to specify in their will that they not be preserved. Methos himself had only been embalmed once in modern times, but that was one time too many for him.

"It is reasonable to suggest," the Watcher continued, "that something is preventing her from waking up. The Narns who captured you surgically implanted technology inside your body to prevent you from reviving. We think the same has happened to Cassandra."

"Did her Watcher see the Narns discover Cassandra's Immortality? Why would Earthforce quietly send her body home if something like that had happened to her? Surely they'd discover it. Did her instructions forbid an autopsy?"

"Yes, it did," he answered the last question and ignored the previous two. "Scans alone couldn't explain why she was dead. If the Narns are involved you are the only one who can find out."

Methos gave a weary sigh. "Can't you steal her body yourself?"

"This isn't a clean up after a beheading," he bristled, showing real emotion for the first time. "Her student is keeping vigil and is clearly aware something is wrong. You already know about Watchers, he doesn't and we don't need to reveal ourselves to him. Many Immortals have become very paranoid around mortals since you were attacked. Which brings me to my next reason; he will recognize you from ISN's report and listen to you. And finally, you owe us for getting you off Tau Ceti."

"On the contrary, I got a free ride. My offer to fill in blanks of your chronicles was turned down and no other means of payment was asked of me."

"It should be obvious that you'd have to return the favor someday," he answered rather primly. "I should think you'd be worried aliens may have found a way to detect Immortals, not just target them when accidentally found as you were."

"What if Cassandra's 'former student' you still haven't bothered to name recognizes me from what Cassandra might have shown or told him instead of ISN's damned broadcast?"

"I don't know what you mean by that. Unless you weren't so camera shy as you are now when you knew Cassandra, I don't know how she could have a photo to show him or why she would feel the need to do so."

Methos looked for a hint of understanding or pretense on his face, but there was none. He seemed genuinely unaware, which meant this Watcher was a mere messenger who didn't know much about the Immortal he'd been sent to convince. Or did he? It occurred to Methos that this man hadn't called him by name implying he likely knew Methos' current alias wasn't his real name. However, he didn't act like he'd just met the oldest living man either. Better to play it safe, just in case. Methos put on a pained smile and exuded all the nervousness to be expected from an average Immortal trying to cope with yet another reminder of his alien imprisonment.

"Very well. I'll find out what happened to Cassandra on one condition, I want my Watcher to accompany me and don't wave non-interference at me."

- o0o -

"How could you involve me like this?" Aria hissed.

"I honestly thought they would refuse," Methos answered from the passenger seat, a little abashed. They were in her vehicle, probably so that she could safely abandon him if necessary.

"To which you would've said, 'if you don't like my price, I can't help you' and then run off. Do you have any idea how much trouble I'm in?"

"Your boss wouldn't allow you to come along if we were in danger of being attacked on sight and Cassandra makes a point of not involving innocent bystanders in her quarrels."

"Not that. For telling the Watchers you spotted me, you idiot!"

"You mean you didn't tell them? None of the other Watchers in your posse snitched on you?"

"Of course not. I'd get reassigned, taken out of the field, which you well know. Corbin is a nice bloke, he wouldn't report me for your stupid guess. You didn't care if you were right or wrong, did you? You did it for fun. That would be so like you, Methos."

"So, you do know my name."

"You aren't quite as significant a secret as you once were." She gave him a sneer. It didn't suit her.

"Do all Watchers know?"

"Certainly not. Rank hath privileges."

"And you wouldn't tell me who even if you knew."

"Nope."

He decided to change tactics. "I am sorry for imperiling your job and I sincerely beg your forgiveness," he said politely and then added, "I can say it in a few dozen languages if you like. Well, not in Iante. They didn't have the concept."

A tiny smile started on her face, despite her efforts to remain irate with him. Good sign, he decided. He needed his innocent bystander to at least appear to be working with him, not putting on a show of being dragged along against her will.

"Besides, the Watchers can't you demote now. Not after asking you to interfere with your assignment. Shall we go then?" he asked.

"I'm here to observe only," she corrected him as they pulled up to the side of the road.

"Will you at least come inside then? I didn't request your assistance for you to play lawn ornament." Methos asked as he got out of the vehicle.

She huffed under her breath, but followed him up the walk to a modern style house that appeared to be recently built. It was imposing with thick metal beams and pillars emerging from concrete made to look like boulders and stones. Not a stick of wood to be seen that wasn't growing in the front garden. Something so trendy and hideous in Methos' opinion wasn't what you'd expect most Immortals to choose as a place to live. Often they picked places that reminded them of their homeland or the types of homes that they wished they could have lived in or had lived in when they were younger.

"What's the bag for?" she asked conversationally as they waited on the faux flagstone doorstep.

"In case she needs surgery."

Aria's eyebrows shot up, but she pressed on without sounding squeamish. "You haven't been a doctor in ages. Where'd you get it?"

"The last time I was a doctor," he said as though it ought to be obvious.

"You're kidding?" she answered, eyes wide as she studied the antique looking leather satchel. "But that was –"

"Medicine hasn't changed that much," he replied in exasperation at her reaction. He held the medical kit up and gave it a little shake in her direction. The tools inside rattled. "I've got a laser cutter and everything."

"Still –"

"Is that man ever going to answer the door?" Methos interrupted and waved his hand at the people detector.

"Maybe he didn't hear it. You could try knocking if you're impatient. Can't you sense him?"

"No, he must be upstairs or in the back garden. Or not home."

"He's here," she said with confidence.

The man's Watcher and who knows how many others stalking them just in case there was trouble would have alerted her if he'd left, Methos had no doubt. Not that they'd rescue him from danger. Just Aria.

"Well," she continued unperturbed, "the PD should have alerted him even out there unless the outside speaker is broken. Or perhaps the door's sensor is out of order?"

"Or he doesn't have a people detector at all," he said with a sigh. "Some Immortals never get with the times."

Another moment passed in silence.

"Daring and inquisitive, we are," she commented as the pair of them continued to stand there.

Methos rapped his knuckles on the metal door smartly at the same time Aria pushed a small button beside the door.

"There is a doorbell," she said pointing out the obvious and shrugging her shoulders.

They didn't have to wait long. Methos' back straightened and his breathing paused for a moment as he felt the other Immortal move into his range. Aria immediately took a step backward to one side where she could either duck behind him or away from him depending on their host's response to an unexpected Immortal and his mortal sidekick.

The door opened to reveal a short man with a touch of grey hair at his temples. Something that was unusual for Immortals as most died rather young. For a moment Methos thought perhaps the man was trying to look physically older to avoid suspicion and remain a little longer in his current life, but a second look confirmed it was his real appearance.

"Hello," Methos began. "I'm Pierce and this is my friend, Aria. I don't suppose you saw my picture on ISN recently?"

"Who hasn't? I haven't had a decent night's sleep since everybody found out Immortals exist. Though I suppose you aren't really to blame." He sounded dubious, as though he'd like to hold him responsible, but couldn't for lack of motive. "Why are you here?"

"I heard about Cassandra and would like to offer my assistance. I'm a doctor."

The man narrowed his eyes critically. "Heard what and why would you do that?"

"Cassandra and I are old acquaintances. Has she never mentioned me?"

"No."

Methos concealed his relief, settling instead on a look of puzzled disappointment that his 'friend' hadn't remembered to talk about him.

"Oh," Methos replied. "I guess I can see why she wouldn't. She had to break a lot of rules to help me sneak out of Babylon 5 after I escaped the Narns. I was going to call her to let her know I'd made it safely home, but I was told she'd died in public on the station the very day I got back to Earth."

It was the truth minus her reasons for speeding up his departure from the station and if you didn't count his fictional intention to inform her of his arrival home. The short little tale worked, breaking the man's tension and mistrust. He opened the door wider beckoning them in. His eyes lingered a moment on Aria, before accepting her as a trusted mortal friend of another Immortal and no more.

"How'd you find out Cassandra was here?" he asked, displaying the usual suspicion most Immortals clung to.

"From the same friend who told me she might have been found out by aliens the way I was," Methos explained. Calling his source a friend wasn't exactly accurate either, but he could always make up a name for the friend if needed.

"The Narns who tortured you?"

"Maybe, but there are so many races after us now and Babylon 5 is full of aliens…" Methos left off allowing the man draw his own conclusions from it whether it was fear, paranoia or outright bigotry. Whatever got them in the door would do.

The man nodded, accepting his explanation. "Oh, I haven't introduced myself," he said belatedly, his exhaustion becoming plainer as he dropped his guard further. "Alastair."

"Nice to meet you."

"She's in here," Alastair said and resolutely started off into the house. He led them down a hall into a rear room past many objects of the Victorian era. It didn't match the exterior of the house at all as though the outside was a deliberate camouflage. They entered a large sitting room with a large fireplace and overfilled with too much furniture and knickknacks.

The most striking thing they saw was the large unadorned metal coffin discarded against the wall as they came in the doorway. Cassandra was lying in repose on a sofa, implying that her relationship with her old student was too formal for something as personal as putting her in a bedroom. Though there was ample light, several candles flickered on the low tables near her. They gave off a heavy perfume that couldn't quite obscure the morgue smell that clung to her body and clothes.

Everything about her appearance spoke of death, from the pallor of her skin to the unnatural stillness of her chest. She was wearing her dress uniform. The polished metals on her jacket glittered in the candlelight. There was no obvious sign of trauma. Her face was serene.

"What did the doctors on Babylon 5 say she died of?" Aria asked, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in the still room.

"Heart failure."

Methos snorted. "Another way of saying they don't know. I don't suppose they mentioned what caused the heart failure."

Alastair shook his head. "They don't know. They did say she didn't have any wounds."

"Or she had wounds that healed only on the outside and something inside is keeping her dead."

"Well, that isn't something I'd be able to…" Alastair said uncomfortably, his face reddening. "That isn't my area of expertise."

"I have been a doctor many times," Methos stated. He kneeled down by the sofa and pushed aside some of the candles on the nearest table to make room for his surgical kit. "What else did they tell you?" he asked as he pulled out a scanner and began waving it over the body. The others stood over him looking at the scanner readout, though Methos doubted either would understand it.

"They found her in her quarters on the floor. The security chief's theory is she let someone in and was attacked, but the doctor says otherwise. No sign of a struggle, nothing stolen and she didn't call anyone for help," Alastair recited sadly. "Whether any of that is actually true, however…" he finished, suspicion lining his face.

"Are you implying that the doctors on Babylon 5 might have done this to her?" Aria asked as she handed the scanner back to Methos. Alastair just looked at her as though suddenly remembering she was mortal and therefore also a potential threat. Methos decided not to try to defend people he didn't know, Aria or the staff on the station.

Methos looked again at the scanner's readout. It was an old model and rather slow, but it did its job well enough. He hadn't really expected it to find something when Babylon 5's doctors couldn't. "I don't think our technology can detect the problem," he decided.

He looked up at Aria. This was the reason he'd wanted her along, she'd been on the Minbari ship and heard or seen things he hadn't. She raised her eyebrows in response to his expectant face, which likewise drew Alastair's attention. She offered nothing and seemed content to revert to silent observer. A Watcher indeed. Or maybe she just wasn't going to say anything in front of a second Immortal. Not good enough for Methos.

"I wasn't told everything about what the Narns did to me and I had little interest in inquiring further at the time. However, Aria was there after I was rescued," he said, knowing she'd have to say something now.

She was ready with an answer that sounded prepared, even if was only to be used if needed. "I know that the doctors found three machines inside your chest cavity that they believed were keeping you temporarily dead. I don't know what they were made of or how they might have worked. I didn't see them myself, they'd already been disposed of."

It was essentially a repeat of what Methos had been told trimmed of names and places Alastair didn't need to know about. He bit back his disappointment. Whether Aria had information he didn't about it or didn't know any more than he did, she wasn't interested in talking here. He pulled on some surgical gloves and arranged what tools he had hoping they would be sufficient for this operation.

"Well, I suppose I'll have to perform an autopsy myself to discover if what happened to me has been done to Cassandra," said Methos, informing rather than asking permission to turn Alastair's sofa into a surgical table. "If you'd rather not watch –"

"I'll just sit over here," Alastair answered moving to a seat across the room so that the sofa back obscured his view of Cassandra's body. He didn't look squeamish, but quite embarrassed. Methos spared a moment to wonder if there was more to this man's relationship with Cassandra than a student and teacher. Or perhaps it was just Victorian modesty. Methos turned back to his bag to find his Watcher literally hanging over his shoulder now, the picture of eagerness.

"Aria, if you could hand me the instruments?" he said with an amused smile that only she could see.

"Sure," she said, not quite stifling the enthusiasm in her voice. Watchers Methos thought were a bit too macabre sometimes. Or perhaps Aria was in the medical field herself. It occurred to him that he didn't know what Aria did other than skulk after him. Some Watchers had day jobs after all, often just as a cover.

As he began unzipping the front of Cassandra's uniform, he tried to estimate how quickly she was going to try to kill him once she revived and how to protect himself. He had no problems with leaving her student to explain everything while he and Aria fled the premises. She didn't need to know who her benefactor was. Yet, he was also having second thoughts about not injecting her with a sedative to prevent a rapid return to consciousness. However, if she could accept his help as atonement, or partial atonement, wouldn't it be worth staying to tell her himself? If she accepted anything at all, she'd likely insist he continue atoning by other means for the rest of his life of course, but Methos could live with that. Even if he didn't concede to any future demands, not having to worry about accidentally encountering her would be an improvement. Dodging her for over two thousand years had not been fun.

"Is it supposed to smell like that?" Aria asked, breaking into Methos' train of thought.

Methos' scalpel paused over Cassandra's ribcage. He sniffed the air and frowned. There was the usual cadaver smell and the ghastly perfume of the candles. Whether it was bouquets of flowers, perfume or incense, you always brought in something to mask the stench of death. It was normal, Alastair probably hadn't thought twice about it. Death smells. Methos hadn't thought anything of it either. Stay in a morgue long enough and you'll smell like a morgue. Aria had probably never seen an un-embalmed corpse in her life and likely didn't know what death smelled like.

His eyes widened in disbelief as he realized the smell shouldn't be as bad as was. Hurriedly he made cuts in the skin and tissue and flinched as the stench increased. Aria backed up at once, coughing. Frantically, he dug his hand inside the body cavity for anything that didn't belong. But there weren't any boxy metal machines, just the early stages of putrid decay no longer being delayed by lack of air or cold temperatures. He'd been so distracted, he'd stupidly forgotten one very simple fact: temporary death didn't stink.

Looking at her now, it was undeniable that she was truly dead. He couldn't understand why he had thought otherwise. Her skin was too green, the veins were too dark, and just thinking about the smell seemed to amplify it. Yet, it was impossible. He felt her neck, but all the bones were connected and the skin was unmarred. Her head was completely attached.

"Is her quickening gone?" Aria asked, holding her nose as she bravely returned.

Methos got unsteadily to his feet and caught Alastair's eyes from across the room. He didn't know what to say. Methos had never seen or heard of anything like it before in all his five thousand years of living. Nobody could remove a quickening without also removing the head.

Alastair's shoulders began to shake and his voice broke as he answered her, "I think so. I think she's really dead."

- o0o -

EAS Nemesis

"I heard in the mess hall that this ship fought for Clark."

"Didn't they end up surrendering to Sheridan?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"But I thought the Nemesis was at Mars at the end of the war."

"Maybe they slunk back to Clark when Johnny wasn't looking."

"That's enough chatter," Catherine Sakai said as she stepped into the room full of pilots halfway into their flight suits. "Hurry up, we launch in ten minutes."

Her squad shut up as ordered and quickly grabbed the rest of their gear. As she dressed, she couldn't help but worry about this mission. Technically, her assignment to the Nemesis was temporary, as a means of being transported in comfort and as a suitable cover story. Normally, this wouldn't bother her overly much. It was the nature of her job to make her team blend in. In her more cynical moments, she reflected that it gave Earthforce better deniability.

She climbed into her Thunderbolt class Starfury and began the preflight preparation. It hummed reassuringly and the display sprung to life. She liked the newer ships, they started up quicker, were a bit more comfortable and they were atmosphere capable.

When she'd rejoined Earthforce she'd known that the only reasons they'd taken her back was for her experience as a Ranger and because the Minbari thought she was dead. She was transferred to Earthforce intelligence at once despite that, as far as they knew, she'd spent a mere four months on Minbar. They expected her knowledge to be limited, but better than anything they currently had. It put her in a quandary of what she could tell them without revealing she knew far morethan she should.

She held no illusions as to where her loyalty lay. Jeff always talked about Minbari and Humans becoming one people someday. But as far as she could see, that day was in the very distant future. To walk through Minbari society over the centuries, she'd lived under various pretenses. The 'alien merchant,' or 'alien assistant', even 'an unfashionable Centauri' on occasion and she had no choice but to train her own children to pretend she was the 'alien nanny' in public. It only emphasized that she was never one of them. Catherine knew better than most what the Minbari were capable of and how eagerly the warriors would like another war even after all these years. Anything she could do to improve Earth's survival should that happen was fine by her. Like Jeff, she was determined to make Earth a completely unappealing opponent, she simply didn't use his methods.

Earthforce had no compunction in sending her on dangerous spying missions into Minbari territory. She had no choice but to put her extensive knowledge of Minbari space, their technology and customs to use in order to keep her team alive. Looking back, Catherine realized it was an effective way of establishing her trustworthiness. Though more often than not, the information she acquired for them wasn't new to her, she was glad for every chance she got to give it to them in a way that could be easily explained.

A deep rumble, only really noticeable upon its absence, suddenly ceased and the glimmer of orange she could just see out of the corner of her cockpit changed briefly to blue and then the blackness of normal space. They were out of hyperspace.

"Iota Squadron and Sheepdog," came a voice from her console. "You are clear for launch."

"Acknowledged," Catherine replied and then said to her squad. "Okay kids, let's move."

They dropped away from the destroyer and watched a large metal contraption that looked rather like a squashed paper ball clumsily exiting the large hanger. The Nemesis turned around, immediately opening a jump point back into hyperspace. It was a massive expenditure of energy to exit and return to hyperspace without using a jumpgate and all to simply drop off one ship and a few Starfuries, but it was necessary to avoid being noticed by the Minbari. Catherine's team was going to set off the Minbari's alarms in a short while and they didn't need to find an Earthforce ship here.

"Okay people," she said into her com unit as she watched her timer counting down. "The big fish on duty should be at maximum distance and our little target is hopefully on schedule. Let's head for the edge."

They'd been on several missions together now, but none were as dangerous as this one. After months of preparation and practice, it'd been suddenly put off and they were sent on other missions. It kept being rescheduled and when the orders finally came they'd had no extra time to prepare. Of course, Earthforce had to choose now, while the Interstellar Alliance was in confusion over the Immortal crisis, to send them to invade Minbari territory. Her squad was quiet as they cruised through space, nervous about the mission and what was at stake should they fail, no doubt. They were a good team, the best she could ask for, but like her they couldn't help but be nervous about being caught by the Minbari.

"We don't have to start radio silence yet," she reminded them in as cheerful a voice as possible. "Come on, now's the time to ask and say what you couldn't onboard the Nemesis. Nobody is eavesdropping out here."

"Why haven't the Minbari fixed the holes in their early warning system?"

Catherine smiled. She could always count on Terry to ask the obvious, for the benefit of the rest of the squad who might be too nervous or too worried about looking bad to ask. "Good question, Iota Five. I can think of a number of reasons besides the expense, but I think the main reason is that these holes are so far away from their planets or anything else of value that they believe it is inconsequential. Their sensor grid will tag us in a few minutes, but at this distance it isn't precise. An object can travel hours in normal space before it is close enough for their system to differentiate whether it is a probe, ship, asteroid or some other space debris."

"A cruiser always shows up before that," he pointed out, but he was careful to maintain a respectful tone. "They investigate every intrusion."

Catherine understood why he was saying this. None of them had backed down from this mission, however now that they were committed he was letting her know the doubts running through everyone's minds… that this was a suicide mission at best and that they'd cause another war at worst. He was asking her to reassure the squad.

"True, none of our probes have lasted long. That is why we will be flying like drunks," Catherine reiterated, though they already knew it. "By destroying those probes, the Minbari gave away how fast – and how slowly – they respond to different configurations of objects entering their space which in turn revealed their patrol routes."

She'd been pleasantly surprised to discover that Earthforce was already aware of this potential weakness. They simply had not found a way to exploit it. Shortly after the Earth/Minbari war, they began a spying campaign. They sent unmarked probes made of materials commonly used by all races in the hope that they'd be untraceable. If the Minbari guessed they were of Human origin, they never did anything about it other than to destroy every probe sent.

The lack of repercussions emboldened Earthforce and they sent more. Over the course of seventeen years and during the absolute chaos of the recent Minbari civil war in particular, they mapped the paths and holes between the Minbari held solar systems where their sensors didn't quite reach. At first the probes were destroyed within hours of crossing the border, before they could broadcast more than one report to listening posts outside the Minbari border. But with time, stubbornness and a lot of money spent on disposable equipment, they calculated how much time they had to run for the next hole before a warship showed up to investigate. So long as the probe was out of the arriving ship's long-range sensors, it survived to continue deeper into their territory.

Catherine suspected that if the Minbari had ever bothered to map the holes in their grid, they still wouldn't have done anything about them. What for? Guards belong on top of the outer walls of the castle, not under the trees in the forest. Whether an intruder moved in hyperspace or normal space or a mixture of both, the moment they crossed into the sensor grid they would be detected long before they could threaten their worlds. It'd be like worrying about a few boulders in the middle of a field far outside your castle. Sure, someone could hide behind them, but you'd see them crossing the field to the rocks. Even if they dodged your archers on their way to the boulders, you'd know they were there and you'd have plenty of time to kill them in the long stretch of exposed ground between you once they came out of hiding. It'd be suicide for any attacker.

That didn't stop Earth from sending probes anyway. Eventually they discovered the gaps twisted in odd directions with little trails running off them and smaller holes peppered the edges that ran from the borders of Minbari space and across much of their territory between the solar systems they possessed. Even a capital ship could follow the beacon in hyperspace corresponding to the longer holes which was how the Nemesis had come this far into Minbari territory and opened a jump point without being detected. However, once the first trail ended they couldn't go any farther in hyperspace or normal space. They'd be seen the moment they left the hole.

The holes were useless, unless being seen didn't necessarily mean you would be caught.

"You've all seen the flight plan," she continued, "seen how it is mapped down to milliseconds, which is why our computers will do most of the flying. While exposed we won't behave like a squad of ships. Even if the Sharlin on duty jumps into hyperspace immediately to head our way, we'll reach the next blind spot before they can arrive.

"But I doubt they'll act so fast. It would be different if we exited or entered hyperspace within the grid – that would call every warship in the region down on us. We'll look like something wandering in normal space, so they'll pick a more convenient time to investigate, could be minutes to hours. They'll arrive to find that whatever set off the alarm has meandered back out of range. The idea that a bunch of ships would be wandering about in the middle of nowhere is ludicrous. They'll decide we were some space detritus or a glitch in the system."

"And when we set the alarm off the second time?" Iota Two asked.

"We'll be in a worker caste region then. We don't look like threatening ships, so they won't call the warriors next door. The castes are not particularly good at communicating with each other, especially deep in their own space and will be unaware that they both experienced the same oddity today. Better still, the workers are absolute sticklers for schedules. We know exactly where every ship in their region of space will be every step of the way. We can do this people."

They answered her in affirmative and in better spirits.

"Coming up on the edge. Begin radio silence and ready your flight programs on my mark… dance."

The squad's formation split up into semi-random patterns and their ships began follow individual flight plans designed to look as much like a natural phenomenon as possible. Their trip in normal space would be a long one as they navigated the blind spots intruding into Minbari space. It was a pity there wasn't a hole large enough in the Worker's space for the Nemesis to jump in directly.

Catherine had used these spots herself long ago. She and Jeff used them to enter hyperspace unnoticed when they needed to. The early warning system recorded all jump openings whether by gate or a ship's jump engine in their grid, but otherwise it passively ignored ships in normal space by assuming they all had to be Minbari ships. The system couldn't log a jump opening it couldn't see. There were ways to fake logs, but Jeff preferred to leave no record at all especially when Catherine had made visits to Earth before the Minbari and Humans had first official contact. The only downside was the unpleasantly long journey in normal space to the nearest blind spot large enough to hide a jump opening.

The obvious way to create a practical use for these blind spots was to obtain a Minbari ship. Of course, if they had a Minbari ship then they might as well use the jump gate system instead. And while they were at it, why not pick up something handy from the barricaded and trap laden Vorlon homeworld? Which was why Earthforce had made no progress in taking advantage of the holes in the system.

The Minbari's jump capable ships were too strong and even catching one dependent on jump gates intact was insanely difficult. Also, the Minbari would notice they lost a ship and look for it. At best, Earthforce would have a damaged vessel they couldn't repair and they wouldn't have the pass codes necessary to use the Minbari jump gates much less the permits for landing on a planet. The result would be only good to study. At worst, they'd incite another war.

It couldn't be done... until now. Catherine knew how to get a Minbari ship that no one would notice had gone missing.

She shoved down the feeling that she was betraying Jeff. She was only giving Earthforce her little and rather old ship. That was all. If they did get back to Earth space – and that was still uncertain – she was sure the best they could do was take it apart and spend years reverse engineering its technology, which was perfectly fine with her. She only hoped it was still where she left it and still worked after all these decades. She tried not to think about could go wrong on the mission, but little doubts began to creep in the moment she told herself not to think about that. It was possible Jeff might have moved her ship. All it would take is a rare oddball warrior captain decided to depart from the normal procedure or a Ranger ship doing its own sneaking about out here and this mission would be quickly over.

They alternately chatted when they could, ate, slept and tried not to think about how much longer it was going to be before they could get out. A transport similar to the one Catherine had used for deep space surveying would have been more comfortable, but Earthforce insisted they go in fighters. Whether it was because they thought it would give the pilots some protection being many small targets or just the psychological reassurance of being in a ship with weapons, she didn't know.

New readouts flared across her screens as she left the grid and entered the next blind spot. A moment later, her ship ceased its slow spinning as the flight program finished and manual control restored. At last, it was time.

"Lead us lambs to the edge of the next pasture." And not to slaughter, she thought quietly.

- o0o -

Author's note:

Hello all, thought I was never going to update this story, didn't you? I was thinking the same and feeling bad about it. Two and a half years is ridiculous between chapters and I'm very sorry it took so long. My only excuse is that real life became very, very wonderful and therefore busy. I still want to finish this fic and always said I'd never leave one unfinished, but I can't guesstimate when I will. So, no promises of chapter nine any time soon. Hopefully it will be not be as long as this one took!


End file.
